


Mother

by Thymesis



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Crack, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Fluff, Ghost!Qui-Gon, Inappropriate Humor, Kid Fic, M/M, Mortis (Star Wars), Mpreg, Mythological Elements, POV Third Person, Pregnant!Ani, Star Wars Kink Meme Fill, canonical character cameos, less canon divergence than you might think actually, please keep an open mind and give it a chance anyway, real person cameo, the birth is just the end of the beginning, this fic REALLY doesn’t do that, yeah i know some people loathe this trope, you know how most mpreg fics end shortly after the birth?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-02 16:10:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 52
Words: 47,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8673940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thymesis/pseuds/Thymesis
Summary: If the Chosen One will not remain on Mortis to keep the Father’s children in balance, will he pledge his firstborn child to this task in his stead? It sounds like a good deal, all things considered. However, there is only one okay, maybe there are two problems: Anakin must bear this child himself, and Obi-Wan is the only human currently available to father it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is inspired by [a recent prompt on the Star Wars Kink Meme](https://starwarskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/586.html?thread=1173578#cmt1173578). I just couldn't resist. Many thanks to the anonymous poster for the fabulous idea!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin proves that he is the Chosen One. The Father has an unusual proposition to put before him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Explicit rating reflects the content of future chapters. We’ll get to the sex soon—I promise!

The Daughter’s hold on him was not painful, but it was implacable. No application of the Force, let alone show of brute physical strength, would be sufficient to enable Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi to free himself. He was all but helpless, and he knew that young Ahsoka Tano’s plight in the much crueler talons of the Son was identical.

Anakin Skywalker was their only hope. Again.

“The planet _is_ the Force. Use it!” Obi-Wan shouted.

He wasn’t sure what he meant by that, really, but it _felt_ right.

At least, he reflected, his former apprentice had learned to listen to him on occasion, and this was one of those occasions. Obi-Wan could feel it as Anakin extended his senses, testing the bottomless well of Force energy surrounding them in this place. He began to tap into it, and something remarkable happened. He wasn’t just channeling the planet’s power; he and the very planet itself were _merging_ , becoming one.

And when Anakin spoke, a deafening roar, the earth beneath him was his mouth, the sky above them his tongue: “ _You will let them go!_ ”

The battle had begun. Was it an entire day or the time it took to take a single breath which passed while Anakin fought the Daughter and the Son for control? Obi-Wan did not know, but once the dome of the heavens had spun above the arena and darkened into stormy night, they seemed to have reached a turning point. Anakin struck and won and, as the blackness gave way to morning, freed both his Master and his Padawan and brought two unimaginably potent beings simultaneously to their knees.

“And now you see who you truly are,” the Father said as he approached the center of the arena where Anakin stood, panting from his exertions. “Only the Chosen One could tame both my children.”

Anakin looked nearly as subdued as his opponents. The majesty of the Force was gone, and he was just a young man again. “I’ve taken your test. Now fulfill your promise and let us go,” he said.

So, it had been a test, and Anakin had not failed. Neither of these new revelations surprised Obi-Wan in the slightest.

“Ah but first, you must understand the truth,” the Father said. Of course there would be a catch. There always was, with beings and situations such as these. “Now, all of you, leave us,” he commanded.

The Daughter and the Son stood, bowed in acquiescence, and moved a respectful distance away. Obi-Wan remained rooted to the spot. He noticed that Ahsoka was similarly unwilling to budge.

“I said, leave us,” the Father repeated with a hint of impatience.

“Not on your life,” Ahsoka interjected, taking up a protective stance at her Master’s left side.

“I find myself in full agreement,” Obi-Wan said as he positioned himself to Anakin’s right. His hand drifted close to the lightsaber clipped to his belt. “Anything you have to say can be said to all three of us.”  

The Father’s glowing green eyes regarded them each in turn for a long moment. Eventually, he seemed to accept their refusal. As his gaze returned once more to Anakin, he said, “Do you feel your destiny? You must see it now. I am dying, and you must replace me.”

“Replace you? I can’t stay here.” Anakin was incredulous.

“It has been foretold. The Chosen One will keep my children in balance. I cannot force you to stay. But I would ask that you pledge your firstborn child to me, to dedicate to this task, for that child shall inherit the destiny of The Chosen One.”

Anakin was stunned. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly like a fish out of water.

Obi-Wan decided to intercede. “Surely you know that Jedi do not have children. We forswear all familial ties.”

“This is ridiculous,” Ahsoka muttered to no one in particular.

“Nevertheless,” the Father said, arms folded across his chest, awaiting Anakin’s answer with what might as well have been infinite patience.

No one spoke. The silence dragged. Finally, Anakin blinked and seemed to come back into himself. “And if I agree to give you my firstborn child, you will let us go in peace?” he asked.

“You have my word.”

“Okay, it’s a deal.”

“What?!” Ahsoka squealed.

“Anakin—no!” Obi-Wan hissed.

“Why not promise him something I’m never planning to have in the first place?” Anakin shrugged. “ _You’re_ more than enough to convince me that I don’t ever want to father kids of my own anyway, Snips.” He tweaked Ahsoka’s nose playfully.

“You misunderstand. The child must be one that you yourself bear.” The Father’s expression was unreadable.

“Me?!” A burst of scornful laughter exploded from Anakin’s mouth. He rolled his eyes in Ahsoka’s direction and then turned toward Obi-Wan. “Would you care to explain the basics of human physiology to our elderly friend, Master? He doesn’t seem to realize that men don’t give birth to children.”

Obi-Wan’s shoulders slumped, and he began shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. Try as he might, he found he couldn’t look Anakin in the face. Never in a million years had he thought that they would need to have this conversation. If only this were a nightmare from which he would soon awaken.

Anakin took note of Obi-Wan’s discomfort. Worried lines creased his forehead.

“Do they? _Do they_ , Master?! Obi-Wan?!”

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan comes clean with some surprising revelations regarding Anakin’s mother and the circumstances of his birth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you will forgive me this abuse of basic human biology.

“If you’ll excuse us for a moment,” he growled. “Obi-Wan and I need to talk.”

Anakin’s fingers dug into Obi-Wan’s biceps with decidedly more aggression than the Daughter’s had earlier as he maneuvered him towards a private alcove of the arena, deep in the shadow of one high, curving wall.

“Now, Master—spill.” There was a veritable storm cloud brewing between Anakin’s beetled brows.

Obi-Wan rubbed his arms and repressed a sigh. There would be bruises from his prosthetic hand; sometimes Anakin still forgot his own strength…especially when he was anxious. Once again, it was up to him to lower the temperature, and this news was not anything he would have wanted to break to his former apprentice even at the best of times.

Now, how to begin? After a moment’s consideration, Obi-Wan decided to ask a question: “Anakin, what did your mother tell you about your father?”

Anakin blinked. In all their years together, Obi-Wan had _never_ encouraged him to remember or discuss his mother. “I don’t—”

“Answer the question, please.”

“Uhh, well, she told me I didn’t have one.”

“And did you believe her?”

“At the time, it never occurred to me not to.” Anakin paused, reflecting. “I suppose she didn’t want me to know that he had left her, or that he’d died. Or that she had been…” he grimaced, “taken against her will. It’s a common occurrence among slaves. Rape isn’t even really regarded as a crime.”

Obi-Wan stroked his beard. “Your hypothetical explanations of the situation are eminently logical. However, they are also incorrect.

“As you know, Master Qui-Gon Jinn took a sample of your blood to test your midichlorian count. He also took a sample from your mother and had both sent on to Coruscant for further analysis. I received the findings a few weeks after…”

“After Qui-Gon was killed on Naboo,” Anakin supplied.

“Yes. The results were truly remarkable. Your mother had sixty-nine chromosomes instead of the usual forty-six, including an inactive Y sex chromosome. You, while seemingly normal with forty-six chromosomes, were found to possess precisely two-thirds of your mother’s genes.

“Do you understand what that means, Anakin? _Your mother spoke the truth._ Asexual reproduction! It had never before been scientifically documented in humans. My Master believed you were conceived through the will of the Force.” Obi-Wan held up a hand to forestall interruption. “I know you are skeptical. So am I. Irrespective of that particular debate, we were all the closer to understanding the actual mechanism of your conception, and although your mother was still on Tatooine, you were available for additional study. I made some discreet inquiries with the Healers, and routine scans quickly confirmed what I had already come to suspect: Anakin, you possess both male and female reproductive capacity.”

For the second time in the space of a few short minutes, Anakin was struck speechless. He reeled backward from Obi-Wan and made to return toward the center of the arena. Then he seemed to change his mind. He wasn’t quite finished with Obi-Wan.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” Berating. It was practically a shout.

Obi-Wan winced. “You were struggling to fit in with the other Padawans in the Temple. I didn’t want you to feel any more different than you already did. Later, when you entered puberty and developed like any other phenotypical human male, there seemed to be no need. Plus, without your mother’s extra chromosomes, it was deemed exceedingly unlikely for you to have inherited her ability to reproduce asexually. Was it wrong of me to keep this from you? If so, you have my sincerest apologies. I meant no harm.”

“This is…this is a lot to take in,” Anakin admitted.

“Regardless, the fact remains that you have latent female reproductive capacity. I do not know how the Father knew of this, but the bargain you have struck with him may be one you will have to literally uphold. Is this something you are willing to accept?”

Anakin rubbed his temples in frustration. “I’m going to need time to process everything you’ve told me. But I don’t see why what I said to Ahsoka doesn’t still apply. Jedi don’t have children—gender and species notwithstanding. Let’s just tell the Father what he wants to hear and get the Sith hells off this damn planet.”

Anakin didn’t bother waiting for Obi-Wan’s answer, and this time, Obi-Wan didn’t bother repressing his sigh. “Always on the move,” he muttered to the back of Anakin’s head as Anakin took the lead, eager to seal the deal with the Father and be on their merry way.

The Father was standing right where they had left him, still and erect as a statue. Ahsoka was nearby, toying idly with the tip of one lekku.

Ahsoka was the first to speak. “Master, would you please tell me what’s going on—?!” But her words cut off abruptly when Anakin hushed her.

“I cannot force you to do this, but if you leave, your selfishness will haunt you. And the galaxy,” the Father said.

“Don’t worry,” Anakin replied, suddenly all business. “You have your deal. Now, please return our shuttle. I’ll be back after I’ve given birth to a child.”

The Father shook his head. “I am afraid I must insist that you conceive and deliver the child here on Mortis. It is most fortunate that you have someone to father it.” Those unsettling eyes fell on Obi-Wan.

Now Obi-Wan was the one at an utter loss of words.

Ahsoka was spluttering incoherently.

Yet Anakin, amazingly, did not miss a beat. He didn’t even glance in the direction of his companions. His eyes never left the Father’s. “In that case,” he countered, “I demand proof of good faith. You will allow Ahsoka to leave immediately.”

“ _Anakin_ —” Obi-Wan began. Naturally, it would be now that Anakin would choose to begin practicing the fine art of sensitive negotiation. When it was _his_ body also at stake.

“No, Master, I want to stay—!” Ahsoka interjected, stepping forward to plead her case.

“As you wish,” the Father said, making an intricate twisting motion with his left hand.

Ahsoka vanished.

The Father smiled then, and this was very possibly the scariest thing Obi-Wan had seen yet in his not inconsiderable life. “You would like a room, I presume?”

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin and Obi-Wan get a room and discuss some of the terms of this, ahem, engagement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Obi-Wan.

The room in the Father’s monastery reminded Obi-Wan of a Padawan learner’s cell in the Jedi Temple. It was long and narrow, with a giant, filigreed window on the far end and gray stone walls so high that he could barely detect the ceiling overhead. A sleeping pallet and a single, neatly folded blanket had been laid out on the floor. No other furnishings relieved the room’s chilly, impersonal austerity.

They didn’t even give us a pillow, Obi-Wan groused inwardly.

A pillow materialized on the sleeping pallet. No light or sound or fanfare of any kind. Just a moment before there had been nothing but empty air, and the next…

Remarkable, Obi-Wan thought, but two pillows would have been more convenient, all things considered.

A second pillow appeared, stacked on top of the first.

Hmm, that’s handy.

Anakin appeared not to notice anything amiss. Instead, his eyes were fixed on a point somewhere just beyond Obi-Wan’s right shoulder.

“In future, Anakin,” Obi-Wan began, “I’d very much appreciate being consulted before you conclude negotiations which require my active participation—”

“The danger—don’t you feel it, Master?” Anakin interrupted. Clearly, he hadn’t been listening. “We have to do _something_. The Father is right. These Force Wielders are a threat that must be contained. Imagine what would happen to the war effort if they allied with Dooku! The Republic—the galaxy itself—would be doomed!”

He had a point. These mysterious beings seemed to wield near-limitless power. Were even one of them to be unleashed upon the galaxy… No, it was unthinkable.

“That is a frightening possibility, I will admit, and one that seems all too plausible. But Anakin…a child?!” Obi-Wan shook his head. “This is all very sudden. Have you even begun to consider…” His voice trailed off.

If he were to be completely honest, Obi-Wan had barely begun to consider it himself. _A child_ — The Order forbade its members all romantic and familial attachments. Sexual relations between two Jedi, with intent to produce offspring (presumably) powerful in the Force, would be a violation of the Jedi Code beyond the pale. But was it against Code if this was necessary to ensure the greater good?

“Look,” Anakin said, apparent paragon of equanimity, gaze settling lightly onto Obi-Wan, “I can’t possibly stay here, and there doesn’t seem to be any alternative other than to give the Father what he wants. Unless you have any better ideas?”

He didn’t, and Anakin knew it.

“Then we don’t have a choice,” Anakin concluded solemnly. He unclipped his utility belt.

Uh-oh. This was really happening. But at least, a rebellious little voice in Obi-Wan’s head tittered, Anakin was finally acknowledging the fact that this scheme would, as it were, take two to tango; never mind that a second unconventional conception in the Skywalker lineage would make Anakin even more insufferable than usual at the next Council debriefing. Still, Obi-Wan had his doubts.

“How can you know that you’ll even be able to conceive?” he asked.

“That part shouldn’t be a problem. Mom used to tell me that she’d always dreamed of having a son, and then she had me. I figure all I need to become fertile is want it badly enough,” Anakin said, grinning, as he shed his obi, tabards, and tunics in a single smooth motion and tossed the resulting bundle of clothing carelessly into a corner.

“I see. Very optimistic,” Obi-Wan murmured. What he was actually seeing was Anakin’s bare chest, and that was something he had seen many times in the past. There was no good reason why was it discomfiting to him now.

“Dunno how you’re going to impregnate me, though. You said the Healers took scans. Did you see them?” Anakin unlaced his boots and yanked them off. His pants quickly followed and were duly added to the pile of discarded clothes.

“I did...” Obi-Wan looked away. A fellow Jedi’s nakedness had never made him feel so unaccountably uncomfortable. “Your digestive and female reproductive systems co-terminate at the anus…”

“Huh.” Anakin’s flesh hand reached around and dipped between his buttocks, exploring. Whatever he felt there seemed to satisfy him. His penis twitched and began to thicken with interest. “Okay, that sounds straightforward. Anal intercourse should do it then.”

Obi-Wan was frozen.

“C’mon, Master, hurry up and get undressed. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we’ll be free to go. Ahsoka’s waiting for us.”

How could Anakin be so blasé and self-assured? Did intimate relations—not to mention the conception of a child!—mean so little to him? Had he thought through this course of action to its logical conclusion?

Wait, stupid question.

“Why are you behaving like such a prude, Master? You’ve done it before, haven’t you? What about with your girlfriend—whatshername, Satine?”

The Mandalorian duchess’s name roused him. “Anakin, I am _not_ having this conversation,” Obi-Wan gritted out.

“Fine by me.”

They faced off, glaring blaster bolts at each other. The silence loomed large between them. Obi-Wan fiddled with his belt but did not remove it.

“Do you need help with that?” Anakin asked, his growing impatience palpable.

“No.”

“Fine.”

Obi-Wan knew when he was out of options. Slowly, deliberately, he began to undress.

Anakin sat down on the sleeping pallet, crossed his ankles in front of him, leaned back casually on his elbows, and looked up at Obi-Wan expectantly as his clothes came off. “So, Master. Do you want me on my back, or would you prefer to take me from behind?”

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now all they need to do is get it on and get Anakin pregnant. Oh, but Obi-Wan still has to get into the right mood…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit sex scene, ahoy! (As if that weren’t already obvious.)

“You’re not hard. You have to be hard for this to work, Master.”

Anakin applied a razor-sharp stare to the now fully naked Obi-Wan’s groin. Obi-Wan didn’t have to look down to know that his already unenthusiastic penis was withering. Any less enthusiasm on his part and it was liable to shrivel up and fall off entirely.

“Your talent for stating the obvious never ceases to amaze,” Obi-Wan snapped.

With a grunt, Anakin levered himself off the sleeping pallet and back onto his feet, stepping in close—extremely close—to Obi-Wan. “Padm-maybe you’re the type that needs some buildup first to get in the mood? It’s okay, Master, don’t be scared,” he said, his tone soothing, conciliatory. “You can tell me what you like.”

Obi-Wan liked the fulfilling relationship he’d cultivated over the years with his own right hand, but he wasn’t about to tell Anakin that.

“How about a kiss?” Anakin suggested. He didn’t bother waiting for a reply.

Suddenly, Obi-Wan’s arms were full of Anakin, and their mouths were being crushed together. Anakin was aggressive but skillful in his technique. Where had he learned how to kiss?

“Mmmrhpf!” Obi-Wan protested halfheartedly as his lips were pried open by Anakin’s own. A warm, questing tongue filled his mouth, teasing his palate and brushing the inside of his cheek. It was an electrifying, intimate caress, like none Obi-Wan had ever before experienced; an unexpected heat was beginning to pool down in the pit of his stomach. At some remote distance from himself, Obi-Wan became dimly aware that he was moaning.

Anakin seemed to take those sounds as encouragement, and without ceremony, or breaking their kiss, he seized Obi-Wan’s penis with his prosthetic right hand and began to stroke. The faint vibrations of the many tiny servomotors driving the complex movement of those plasteel fingers made him gasp into Anakin’s mouth. A mouth that was curling with a self-satisfied smile.

Obi-Wan had become so hard so fast he was practically dizzy. His knees wobbled. Their kiss ended, finally, and Anakin steered him toward the sleeping pallet and eased him gently down onto his back.

“Do you know how gorgeous you are? I’ve always thought so, even as a boy. Oh Master, we are going to make a beautiful child together!” Anakin moaned low in his throat as he lowered himself beside Obi-Wan. His blue eyes were feverishly bright, pupils dilated.

Obi-Wan blushed crimson, and before long he was flushing hotter still as Anakin pressed tender lips to his collarbone and then began licking a tortuously pleasurable path down the middle of his chest.

“What do _you_ have to be embarrassed about?” Anakin addressed Obi-Wan rhetorically across the expanse of his heaving abdomen from where he knelt between the other man’s outspread legs. “Look, you’re bigger than I am! Almost doesn’t seem fair…”

Obi-Wan looked just in time to see Anakin’s mouth engulf his penis, and he nearly climaxed right then and there.

“No!” he shouted, squeezing Anakin’s shoulders and pushing him off his erection. “I wasn’t going to last…” he clarified, stopping the spread of the wounded expression on Anakin’s face dead in its tracks.

“Not a problem, Master. Ready for the main event?” All business again.

Whatever the peculiarities of his biology, Anakin was still a young man with a young man’s enthusiasm for sex. His erect penis jutted and curved outward from a thick thatch of dark, honey-blond pubic hair, already gloriously aroused and weeping with erotic desperation. All this, simply because he had been pleasing Obi-Wan. It was profoundly flattering to be desired, and it filled Obi-Wan with desire—and a desire to please—in turn.

“I think this position will be easiest for you,” Anakin said as he got on his hands and knees, facing away from Obi-Wan. Nestled between the sweet rise of his buttocks was the anal sphincter, fluttering and exuding a viscous stream of clear fluid.

He must be producing his own lubrication, Obi-Wan thought as he knelt behind Anakin. That was good. The last thing he wanted to do was harm his partner during intercourse.

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan aligned himself, grasping his erection, and guided it in. There was no resistance as he slid inside, like he had always belonged there, and it was _nothing_ like he would ever have expected: warm, wet, and thoroughly welcoming. Obi-Wan wondered if it were possible to die from ecstasy.

“Yeeeessss,” Anakin hissed, pushing wantonly backward into the penetration, seeking the best angle. “Move, damn you!”

Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around Anakin’s waist, pressed his face into Anakin’s neck, squeezed his eyes shut, and began to thrust. Oh, it was exquisite. A primordial dance of passion—they were meant for this. Their rhythm built rapidly, hips snapping together in unison. They were trembling. Obi-Wan knew that neither of them were going to last. Then Anakin stiffened and began to keen beneath him, and Obi-Wan was coming too in long, searing pulses, the most intense orgasm of his life.

They collapsed heavily onto the sleeping pallet, with Obi-Wan resting atop Anakin’s back, raining feather-light kisses onto his sweaty shoulders. They were still joined, and Anakin was writhing, bucking, gasping for air.

Those gasps, Obi-Wan gradually came to realize, were words:

“Again,” Anakin panted. “It wasn’t enough. Again. I need more. We have to go _again_.”

Obi-Wan whimpered as their frantic coupling resumed. He took Anakin’s penis roughly in hand; Anakin’s rectal muscles tightening on his erection in response was a sensation so fierce that it actually _hurt_.

They both reached into the Force then, as one, to an in-between place past touch and sight and sound, where the origin of life called to them. Obi-Wan pushed deeper into Anakin than he had ever gone before, felt that body beneath him yield unconditionally, and together they called back to the new spirit that would someday soon be theirs. The planet of Mortis was indeed conduit and magnet—it amplified their cries of joy as they achieved completion again. Behind the blackness of Obi-Wan’s eyes there was an explosion of light, brighter and brighter, until it was as if a new star was shining in the heavens above, and he was the God who’d ignited it.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after on Mortis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick question for y’all: Do you like the short 800-1000 word chapters and frequent updates? I’m hoping they complement the prose style well, but perhaps now might be a good point to evaluate.

A distant rumble of thunder.

Strangely, Obi-Wan felt…nice. Cocooned in warmth, breathing in the lingering, musky scent of passionate sex. Sometime in the night, Anakin had wrapped a blanket around them. Now they were spooned together, with Anakin fast asleep and pressed up against his back, leg thrown over his hips, hand cradling his head. Anakin’s other hand lay possessively on his belly, fingertips tantalizingly close to his groin…

Obi-Wan turned over to look at the man lying beside him. Anakin did not awaken. That handsome brow, so often furrowed with wartime worries, was smooth and unblemished in sleep. He stroked Anakin’s cheek with the pad of his thumb. Anakin shifted subtly into the touch and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “I love you too, Obi-Wan.”

Anakin had struggled to acclimate to life in the Jedi Temple at first, and he’d hated sleeping alone in his Padawan learner’s cell most of all. By the second week, he’d figured out how to slice his way into Obi-Wan’s tower quarters. On most mornings during those early days, Obi-Wan used to awaken with Anakin in his bed. Obi-Wan reminded himself that the little boy who cried because he missed his mother, who therefore sought comfort and reassurance in his Master’s embrace, continued to live within Anakin.

He should be more upset, he knew. He’d already lost count of the number of rules they’d broken. The Jedi High Council would undoubtedly strip them of their rank and relieve them of their GAR commands. At this rate, they might even be expelled from the Order altogether, and if he were perfectly honest with himself, Obi-Wan half-believed they deserved all that and more.

Yet he couldn’t quite shake the foreboding sense that, fundamentally, Anakin had—as was often the case—instinctively chosen the correct course of action. Oh, he hadn’t given sufficient attention to the likely consequences of this choice, and those consequences could easily come to overshadow whatever problems he’d managed to solve. Obi-Wan would need to meditate on it once they were off of this Sith-forsaken planet, before things got completely out of hand—

There was the tiniest of vibrations in the Force. Obi-Wan’s ruminations cut off abruptly. The new life within Anakin was quickening, and it sensed him! _Recognized_ him!!

Anakin’s eyes flew open. Their gazes locked.

“Did you feel that?” Obi-Wan couldn’t quite disguise the wonder from his voice. He was smiling foolishly.

Anakin’s lips began to curl in response. But it wasn’t a smile.

“I need the ’fresher,” Anakin moaned as he lurched awkwardly to his feet and practically fell headfirst through an archway cut into the wall that Obi-Wan would have sworn hadn’t been there mere seconds earlier.

There were retching sounds. Obi-Wan winced sympathetically. He rose from the sleeping pallet and dressed but made no move to intervene. Anakin had always hated seeming vulnerable in front of his former Master; he would want his privacy now, surely.

Morning sickness, _already_? It should not be possible.

Obi-Wan tried to block out Anakin’s groans and foul language. He approached the window dominating the far wall of their room. Looking out onto the vast tract of land below, Obi-Wan watched as the morning chased the night away. Yesterday—had it been but yesterday?—it had been the day that fled, the darkness hot on their heels as he and Ahsoka ran for their lives. Is this what it meant for the Force to truly be in balance? Never changing but always in motion?

At last, Anakin emerged from the refresher. He was still greener than Luminara Unduli—nearly as green, in fact, as Yoda. With extreme care, as if even the slightest sudden movement would upset his delicate equilibrium, he padded toward the messy pile of his discarded clothing and, somehow, managed to make himself decent.

“Let’s go,” Anakin said as he took three wobbling steps toward the corridor leading back to the monastery’s central nave. “I can’t wait to put this planet in my ion trail.”

Obi-Wan was in complete agreement with that sentiment. He put a steadying hand on Anakin’s shoulder; it was telling that Anakin did not brush his silent offer of assistance aside.

The monastery was a veritable maze, but they neither met nor perceived sign of any living being as they navigated their way back to the main gate.

“Maybe the Father and his children are still asleep,” Anakin said.

“When are we ever that lucky?” Obi-Wan asked dubiously.

And sure enough, their luck did not hold.

As they were proceeding along the narrow mountain trail that they hoped would lead them back to where they’d originally landed their shuttle, the Daughter swooped down from the sky and landed before them, blocking their path. Her wings beat a hot wind into their faces, and her raptor’s beak loosed a high-pitched shriek.

Undaunted, Obi-Wan stepped forward to face her. “He has conceived as agreed,” he said. “We continue to honor our agreement with the Father. However, we have other duties to the galaxy to discharge. Please permit us safe passage off of this planet. We give you our solemn vow that we will return in nine months’ time to deliver the child.”

With a flash of golden light, the Daughter changed form, and she was again a slender human woman with long green locks and diaphanous yellow raiment.

“It is not safe. Go back inside,” she said. There was Force-amplified suggestion in the words.

“What the—?! Why you—” Anakin snarled, reaching for his lightsaber.

Obi-Wan restrained him. Fortunately, that was relatively easy to do in Anakin’s…condition.

“Please, ma’am,” Obi-Wan entreated.

But the Daughter stood firm. “The Mother must not leave Mortis.”

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) The, uhh, three of you who have also read and enjoyed my other multi-chapter obikin fanfic [That Sleep of Death, What Dreams May Come](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7731400) may be interested to know that I consider the dream dimension of that fic to occupy the same type of Force-saturated time-space continuum as the Mortis of this one. These two stories are _not_ taking place in the same fanfictional universes, however, and I’m not sure this tidbit even rates as headcanon. Still, you may notice the same “rules” applying in both instances.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danger approaches! While Obi-Wan’s seed was being sown in Anakin’s womb, a seed of rebellion was being sown in the heart of the Son…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, how about a bit of action? :-) 
> 
> (Of a non-sexual sort.)

“That was not a part of the deal!” Anakin shouted as he shook free of Obi-Wan’s restraining grip.

“It is not safe,” the Daughter repeated, her ageless face inscrutable. “Return to my father’s monastery at once.” The Force was there in her words again.

Anakin was having none of it, in far too foul a mood to be influenced by such methods of persuasion. “I do _not_ take orders from the likes of you!” he snarled.

Stars’ end, Obi-Wan thought, this is not going well. Not well at all.

“Anakin, _please_. Control yourself,” Obi-Wan admonished sharply in his best Master-giving-instruction-to-Padawan voice. It was the voice of authority that, even now, Anakin obeyed automatically and without question, albeit sullenly.

Obi-Wan did not sense any hostility or ill will from the Daughter. Quite the contrary, in fact; there seemed to be no darkness in her whatsoever. Surely a civilized approach would be more constructive than Anakin’s knee-jerk aggression.

In his most gracious, conciliatory tone, Obi-Wan put the obvious question to the Daughter: “What danger threatens us? Please, we would very much like to understand. Your explanation would be most appreciated.”

The Daughter made a slight bow of unspoken acknowledgment. So, Force Wielders seemed to respond positively to common courtesy. That was valuable piece of information. “My brother is full of rage, and he grows restless,” she began. “A new fork in the road has appeared. The future—”

There was an ominous rumble directly overhead.

“Not again—!” Obi-Wan groaned.

But this time, the Daughter was prepared, and when what seemed like half the rocky hillside came crashing down on their heads, she made a languid—almost dismissive—two-handed gesture, and the mass of jagged boulders the rough size and shape of a Corellian space freighter was diverted harmless down into the chasm below.

“The two of you had a diverting romp last night, I trust?”

The quality of light changed from sun to shadow, and the Son dropped from the sky, landing lightly on his feet between the Daughter and the two Jedi.

“Sith scum!” Anakin growled. He and Obi-Wan ignited their lightsabers and assumed defensive positions.

The Son ignored the threat. He merely approached Anakin, and, feigning casualness, stroking his chin theatrically, began to circle around him, scrutinizing him like one would a prized museum specimen on display. Warily, Anakin tracked his movements.

“Hmm. I must confess that you don’t _look_ special to me,” the Son said. “Just another frail, frivolous mortal being. What does my father see in you, anyway?”

“Who knows? Maybe he’s been on the lookout for a better option. Since you’ve grown up to be such a crushing disappointment,” Anakin replied with his best sneer.

Oh, for pity’s sake—!

“Anakin, don’t provoke him!” Obi-Wan shouted.

But it was too late. The Son deactivated their lightsabers, which fell impotently beside their feet, and then Anakin was floating in the air, clutching vainly at his throat, and gasping for breath. “How tiresome. Let’s try something different,” the Son said. Anakin slammed bodily into the rock wall and crumpled to the ground.

He lay curled up on his side, clutching his abdomen and moaning.

“No!” Obi-Wan cried. This couldn’t be happening.

“You have been instructed not to harm the Chosen One!” the Daughter said, her voice rising anxiously for the first time.

“Come come now, sister, where’s the fun in that?” the Son asked. He smirked.

The Daughter stepped forward and widened her stance, clearly ready to protect Anakin’s prone form from her brother’s excesses. The Son stiffened, becoming wary, but he made no move to attack.

“And we are not to interfere with the ways of the Force. Father forbids it,” she said.

“It seems to me that our father is the one doing the meddling of late,” the Son said, his attention fixed on his sister. “I am but following his lead in this regard…”

The Son was distracted. This was his chance! Heedless of the danger, Obi-Wan ducked low and pushed his way past both Force Wielders. _He had to get to Anakin, to make sure he was all right…_

_Close…_

“Oh, very well, sister. You win this round. But our father said nothing about _him_.”

_Only one more step…_

When the attack did come, it was from behind, and Obi-Wan never saw it. Cruel talons sank remorselessly into his shoulders and he was lifted into air. The Son had once again transformed into a demonic, winged nexu-like creature, and he was carrying Obi-Wan off.

Away from Anakin. Away from their unborn child. If that child even survived.

As the ground receded beneath him, Obi-Wan could see Anakin where he had fallen. His eyes were closed; he did not appear to be moving. The Daughter was making to kneel down beside him.

And that was the last thing he saw before his vision was obscured by the clouds.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While imprisoned in the lair of the Son, Obi-Wan makes an unexpected new acquaintance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a riff on the Clone Wars episode, “Altar of Mortis.” If you think you know where this story is going from that tidbit, though, you are probably wrong! :-D

Manacles. On his wrists and ankles. Sometimes he wished evil would be a bit more creative. Maybe. For variety’s sake.

True, these had proven frustratingly invulnerable to opening with Force telekinesis. But that was exactly the wrong sort of variety he had in mind.

Obi-Wan had lost track of the amount of time that had passed since the Son had shackled him spread-eagled to the wall and departed without a word or a backwards glance. He’d been here ever since.

Wherever “here” actually was, it was exceptionally strong in the dark side of the Force. Certainly, it didn’t look much like a prison cell. Although the dim, orange-tinted light cast long shadows and made it difficult to see the details of the soaring, cathedral-like interior, Obi-Wan felt it safe to assume that this place belonged to the Son.

Suddenly, Obi-Wan noticed that one of the shadows in the farthest corner beside a support column was…flickering.

“Hello there,” he called out to the shadow.

Nothing.

He waited.

Still nothing.

Just when Obi-Wan had decided the flicker must have been a figment of his imagination, a figure crept into the angled beam of light cast by a rosette-shaped transparisteel window. It was what appeared to be a human boy, perhaps thirteen standard years of age. He was thin, with dark skin and hair, and wore nothing but a tattered loincloth. His hunched, round-shouldered posture betrayed a heavy burden of long-held despair.

“Why, hello there,” Obi-Wan repeated. “And what is your name?”

The boy ignored the question. “You have been left here to die,” he said instead. Despite the harshness of the words, the boy’s high, childish voice was gentle, diffident.

“I gathered that. I don’t plan to stay,” Obi-Wan said wryly.

“You don’t have a choice.” The boy came closer. His face was attractively symmetrical, and his eyes were liquid pools of deep space. “I have been here for more years than I care to remember,” he said, “and I have been alone. Are you alone?”

“I-I…” Obi-Wan hesitated, his heart twisting in his chest as recalled for the thousandth time the sight of Anakin crumpled unmoving on the ground. “I don’t know,” he admitted at last.

The boy came closer to where Obi-Wan was restrained. Even closer. And closer still—until he was crouched at Obi-Wan’s feet.

He touched the manacles binding his ankles. They clicked open. Then, the boy’s small body was pressed flush against Obi-Wan’s. He ran delicate fingers slowly, sensuously up Obi-Wan’s chest and along the undersides of his arms, until his hands grasped the manacles around Obi-Wan’s wrists. These too clicked open.

Obi-Wan was free.

In a matter of speaking. The boy continued to cling to him more persistently than a buzz droid to a starfighter’s wing engine.

“Err…thank you?”

Obi-Wan tried politely to extricate himself, but the boy was having none of it. “The chains—the chains are the easy part,” the boy whispered, his warm breath teasing the whiskers of Obi-Wan’s beard, and tilted his head to indicate the throbbing pulse at his temple. “It’s what goes on in _here_ that’s hard…”

That wasn’t the only thing that was hard. The boy had an erection, and he was grinding it with eager, rhythmic movements into Obi-Wan’s left leg.

“I have been all alone here. This place is so lonely. Will you be my friend?” the boy asked plaintively as he parted Obi-Wan’s tabards and tunics and unlaced his leggings.

Before Obi-Wan could reply in any way, let alone mount a dignified protest, the boy had freed his genitals and began fondling them as he sank to his knees. Then he lifted Obi-Wan’s flaccid penis to his lips and poked his tongue through the opening of the foreskin, laving the glans concealed underneath and tasting the urethral opening.

“I will make you forget him. You don’t have to be alone,” the boy murmured fervently as he caressed the flesh behind Obi-Wan’s scrotum and stroked the shaft of his penis, which remained resolutely soft. His unfathomable black eyes met Obi-Wan’s as he leaned in with a pleased moan to resume mouthing his genitalia.

Obi-Wan decided that he had had enough. Placing his hands on the boy’s shoulders, he held him steady as he took one step back.

“I am sorry. I am not alone; I should have told you. My companion will come for me,” he said.

The boy remained kneeling, dejected and sorrowful. Surely this inappropriate behavior, Obi-Wan thought with compassion, was not his fault. He had likely been abused and understood no other way of connecting with another being. “Perhaps I can—” he began.

Without warning, the boy surged forward and sank his teeth deep into the soft skin of Obi-Wan’s exposed, naked right thigh. He gnawed and worried at the flesh, as if trying to eat him alive…until finally, just as quickly, he let go.

“Owwww…” Obi-Wan felt the pain of the bite only distantly. Lightheaded, he crumpled to the floor. It felt like the room was spinning, faster and faster, and the darkness was closing in all around him.

The boy loomed high over him—

And grew higher still as his form seemed to blur and shift and transform into—

 _The Son_.

“How do you know he will come for you?” the Son asked. The question seemed to have originated from inside Obi-Wan’s own mind.

“Anakin is loyal. And brave. He would never abandon me…” Obi-Wan said.

Would he? His breath hitched. Oh, his head was pounding!

“And yet he is happy to leave his firstborn behind. Some friend.” Sneering, laden with distaste and contempt. “Forget him. You are better off without him.”

“No…!” Obi-Wan vehemently denied it. Anakin would never—!

The pregnancy… Anakin’s child, his child… He couldn’t think… Something wasn’t _right_ …

“You are mine now!” the Son gloated.

_Yes…_

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) There is some creepy sexual stuff in this chapter. The Son is super-smarmy in the TV series—not to go there when this story is already rated Explicit would have been _such_ a wasted opportunity! I’d hoped to leave that as a surprise, so there are no advance warnings in the notes or tags. Is everybody okay with that, or should I make some sort of changes?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin rides to Obi-Wan’s rescue. It does not go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww…
> 
> In other news, still riffing on the episode, “Altar of Mortis.”

Obi-Wan stood atop the battlement of the Son’s keep, looking out onto a commanding view of the lay of the land below. The strange glowing trees, distant lightning strikes, and silvery twin moons like off-center eyes opened wide in the heavens made it easy to see far, even at night.

“Have you anything to report?” the Son asked, appearing without warning alongside Obi-Wan.

“No, my Master,” he replied, lowering his head obediently.

The Son grabbed the back of Obi-Wan’s head and pulled him in for a ravishing kiss that tasted of brimstone and blood. Obi-Wan parted his lips to make way for the invading tongue, pressing the palms of his hands lightly to the Son’s chest in a show of submission, and moaned with lustful abandon. One of the Son’s hands slid possessively down Obi-Wan’s back; he reached for a thigh. Obi-Wan lifted his leg eagerly to wrap around the Son’s body.

This was escalating quite rapidly. Their groins were very close to making contact through their layers of clothing. Obi-Wan whimpered, jerked, breaking the kiss. The Son tilted Obi-Wan’s head to the side, to give him better access to the pulsing artery at his neck…

It was from that angle over the Son’s shoulder that Obi-Wan first saw Anakin, fine features twisted with jealousy and righteous fury, blue-bladed lightsaber raised high overhead—and charging.

Heedless of the danger, Obi-Wan broke away from the Son’s embrace and, unarmed, rushed forward to meet Anakin’s charge head on. Snarling, he grabbed at Anakin’s wrists, twisting the lightsaber aside. The two of them went tumbling with a blunt smack, Obi-Wan first and then Anakin heavy as a bantha on top of him, to the stone cobbles of the battlement.

As they wrestled, the Son made no attempt to intervene. “You see? He belongs to me, body and soul. You have already lost.” He laughed scornfully.

“No!” Anakin shouted.

Neither man would give quarter, and neither man was able to regain his footing. Obi-Wan managed to catch Anakin in a choke-hold. “Flee!” he hissed into his ear.

“No!” Anakin shouted again, louder. And with a great, animal roar and a single, explosive movement, Anakin managed to both free himself from Obi-Wan and launch himself full-tilt at the Son.

 _That_ attack went exactly as well as Obi-Wan would have anticipated.

***

Manacles again. And this time, he had company.

Obi-Wan glanced over to Anakin, who was taking the restraints with characteristic ill grace, and sighed.

“This was not a good day to disobey my direct order, young one. You should know by now that we are unlikely to overcome these Force Wielders in hand-to-hand combat.”

“But you were— He was—!” Anakin spluttered.

“He believed he had gained control my mind. I merely played along, waiting for a chance to escape,” Obi-Wan said.

“Oh.” Anakin deflated.

“I am not some damsel in distress, and you are not some prince riding to my rescue.”

“No, of course not, but—”

“In your recklessness,” Obi-Wan continued pitilessly, “you risked not just your own life, but the life of your unborn child as well.”

Now Anakin looked thoroughly miserable. “You’re right. After I came to, I immediately followed in pursuit. You were all that mattered. I didn’t think…”

So, the Daughter had not stopped him. And he hadn’t bothered to confer with the Father either. Disappointing, but not exactly a surprise where Anakin was concerned.

Obi-Wan gentled his tone. Sometimes he took berating Anakin too far. “Tell me—how are you feeling? Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” Anakin chuckled. Encouraged by the change of topic, he added, “I don’t even feel sick anymore.”

Thank goodness for small blessings. What a relief it was to know that both mother and child were healthy and safe! Okay, well, maybe “safe” was relative when it came to Anakin. Obi-Wan regarded his former Padawan with no small amount of affection. Was it his imagination, or was Anakin’s belly already beginning to protrude?

“You risk my displeasure in your ill treatment of the Chosen One.” The rich, resonant voice resembled the Father’s.

It was. Father and son came past, strolling side by side. They paid the manacled Jedi no mind and proceeded with their conversation as if no one were there to overhear them.

“You are growing stronger, my son. Vanity, however, is getting the better of you,” the Father said.

“How so?” the Son asked, feigning innocence.

The Father was not deceived. “You have done what is forbidden. You have chosen the dark side and allowed it to feed your anger and desire for power.”

“By bringing the Chosen One here, you have shown me my potential. You have only yourself to blame,” the Son replied.

“Do not do this, my son. Do not become what you should not. Be strong, I implore you, and allow this child to be born into our world,” the Father pleaded, “or else I will be forced to contain you.”

“ ‘Contain’ me?!” the Son growled, his ire rising. “I am already a prisoner, Father, and I am sick and tired of it!”

“No, Son—”

“And I will _not_ submit indefinitely to ‘containment’ by this so-called Chosen One’s whelp either! Father, I hate you!!” the Son shrieked as brilliant, ravening bolts of crimson electricity poured from his fingertips toward the Father.

“Look out!” Anakin cried, breaking the humans’ silence for the first time since the unexpected arrival of the Force Wielders.

Anakin needn’t have worried, however. The Father caught the energy casually between the palms of his hands and sent it arcing back at the Son in the form of a red, green, and gold sheet that wrapped itself in a tight cocoon around the Son’s body.

The Son disappeared in a blinding clap of white light.

The Father remained in place for a very long time, sad yet stoic, until at last he roused himself and remembered to release Obi-Wan and Anakin from their restraints.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief respite. Anakin focuses on the obvious, while Obi-Wan makes a start at pondering the difficult questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like this story is nearing an inflection point! :-D

The return to the Father’s monastery had been uneventful, and upon their arrival Anakin and Obi-Wan had been given leave to retire to what had, in the space of a couple short days, become “their” room.

Their lightsabers, lost during their altercations with the Son, were neatly laid out for them just beyond the door. It was reassuring to have them back, whatever good such weapons would do here.

Anakin immediately called dibs on the refresher and did his usual disappearing act. Bathing—and wasting as much hot water as humanly possible—was one of the desert child’s all-time favorite relaxation activities. Obi-Wan never begrudged him this small luxury whenever and wherever it was available.

Knowing that Anakin would be pleasantly preoccupied for quite awhile yet, Obi-Wan decided to meditate. He had not had the opportunity to do so since their arrival on Mortis, and the need for a new perspective to help consolidate any insights gained had been worrying the back of his mind like an insistent itch.

Obi-Wan positioned himself in front of a blank wall and sank cross-legged to the floor. He started by concentrating on his breathing, on the faint rush of cool air circulating in and out of the sensitive interior of his nose. Then, he began to open himself up to the Force. Its energy flowed through him like a babbling brook, and a cool stream, and an inexorable, fast-moving river, until Obi-Wan Kenobi himself ceased to exist and there was only that which animated all life in the universe.

Rising gradually out of the deepest part of his meditation and becoming conscious of his surroundings once more, Obi-Wan knew that the Son’s residual darkness had also been completely purged from his spirit. It had been like an infection, transmitted by that bite, black and festering, and held back not by his immune system but rather by the abiding faith and goodness of his heart.

He might have succumbed to that infection in other circumstances, but the Son had made a grievous tactical error in trying to make Obi-Wan question Anakin’s loyalty. There was no darkness in Obi-Wan’s love for Anakin—only compassion, acceptance, and infinite forgiveness.

That was why the Son’s temptations had failed. Obi-Wan had never been blind to Anakin’s many foibles, indeed often found justifiable reason to criticize them, and he understood that Anakin was first and foremost possessive: He would sooner die a thousand horrific deaths than abandon Obi-Wan. And Obi-Wan had _not_ been betrayed; Anakin had not left him alone.

And if Anakin would not leave Obi-Wan to rot and writhe beneath the Son’s dubiously erotic attentions, then he _certainly_ wasn’t about to leave his firstborn child to an equally uncertain fate here on Mortis.

_There it was._

Whatever problems they had already faced together would multiply a hundredfold upon the birth of this child. Anakin was refusing to face the reality of his own inevitable, unhealthy response to a fast-approaching state of affairs, and there was precisely nothing Obi-Wan was going to be able to do to forestall or prevent that response.

Keep your concentration here and now where it belongs, Master Qui-Gon Jinn used to say.

Nothing for it, Obi-Wan thought. There would be plenty of time to tackle these problems when they arose. For now…

“All yours,” Anakin declared, shaking errant drops from damp, shaggy curls.

Enjoy and appreciate this peace while it lasts.

Obi-Wan made his way to the refresher gratefully. A large tub, already full to the brim with warm, soapy water, dominated the space. This was probably Anakin’s leftover bathwater, but Obi-Wan had no compunctions about reusing it—preferred to, even, so as not to be wasteful. He washed himself efficiently and, after he was done, wrapped himself the fuzzy white robe he found hanging from a peg in one corner.

Anakin was on the floor in front of a low table when Obi-Wan emerged, inhaling the contents of a large, stoneware bowl. If the two empty bowls stacked up beside him were any indication, he was already on his third helping.

“There’s some for you too, if you’re interested,” Anakin said, the words barely intelligible because his mouth was full to bursting. He gestured toward a fourth steaming bowl.

Obi-Wan peered curiously at the bowl’s contents. Thinly-sliced strips of rare red meat and a rainbow medley of vegetables had been laid out on top of a bed of mushy brown wholegrain. It appeared, for all the world, like traditional street food on Malastare. Anakin had always been irrationally partial to the cuisine since the age of ten, when he’d absconded from the Temple for a week to watch podracing on the planet of its origin.

“Where did the food come from?” Obi-Wan asked. He’d seen no dining or kitchen facilities, let alone agricultural activity, anywhere on Mortis.

“Dunno,” Anakin replied with an uninterested shrug. “I was hungry. It just appeared.”

Did it? Another mystery. Obi-Wan sighed and helped himself to the fourth and final bowl. The eating utensils, two long sticks each tipped with a wedge-shaped spade, were also traditional on Malastare. The food was delicious, in any case, fresh-tasting and perfectly prepared, the grain at the bottom of the bowl seared delightfully against the hot stone of the bowl to a crisp, satisfying crunch.

They ate in companionable silence, partaking of the simple pleasures of the other’s nearness. For a little while, at least, everything was the same as it had always been; their lives were not about to change utterly and irrevocably.

For now, at least, they could pretend.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin gets some “alone” time. Obi-Wan confers with the Father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a bit of everything, doncha think?

“Phew! I’m beat.” With a theatrical, jaw-cracking yawn, Anakin pushed himself away from their meal and stretched. “I feel like a nap.”

Obi-Wan knew exactly what _that_ meant from years of shared sleeping berths during missions away from Coruscant. Anakin wanted to masturbate.

“Very good. I’ll leave you to it,” Obi-Wan said. One eyebrow lifted in bemusement.

Anakin captured Obi-Wan’s hand in his own and guided it to his crotch suggestively. “Don’t you want to keep me company, Master?” he asked, attempting a leer that was more teasing than seductive.

“I’d rather not,” Obi-Wan said hastily, snatching his hand back. “Besides, I would like to have some words with the Father. I can do that while you get your rest.”

“Your loss,” Anakin pouted.

“Indeed.”

Fortunately, Anakin did not seem inclined to press the issue. Moreover, in spite of that flash of jealous fury manifesting during the brawl at the Son’s keep, he did not seem to be assuming any fundamental change in his relationship with Obi-Wan after their one bout of energetic lovemaking. That was for the best. Now it just had to stay that way.

Obi-Wan almost managed to convince himself he believed that.

By the time Obi-Wan was attired once again in his Jedi uniform, Anakin had fallen onto the sleeping pallet, blanket tucked securely around him all the way up to his chin. He smiled sweetly up to Obi-Wan, the picture of perfect innocence. “See you later.”

He wasn’t fooling anybody.

“I’ll return soon,” Obi-Wan said softly as he exited their room.

Finding the central nave of the Father’s monastery proved much easier the second time around, the maze-like corridors having resolved themselves into some sort of logical arrangement. To think that he was already getting used to the place!

The Father was seated in a chair at the center of a raised dais at the far end of the nave. He looked like a king…or a high priest. The Daughter knelt at his feet, head lowered and palms pressed together in an attitude of devoted prayer. A strange tableau, to be certain, and stranger still through the eyes of the Force: It was as if the two Force Wielders were drawing the planet’s energy field into their own bodies and, in so doing, changing the fundamental nature of that energy into matter. In a different context, perhaps, it should have been terrifying, but here, in this time and place, it was awe-inspiring—magnificent.

Who _were_ these people? What was their purpose? Could this be how the universe itself was created?

“You wish to speak with me?” the Father asked.

Obi-Wan blinked. He hadn’t realized his presence had been noted.

“I am here to express my concerns about the safety of my companion and his child,” Obi-Wan began without preamble. “Your son took me prisoner and attempted to enslave me. What is to prevent something similar—and worse—from occurring again?”

“My son has been contained. For as long as my power holds, he will not molest you,” the Father said.

“And how long will your power hold?”

“For as long as needs must.”

Clearly, this line of inquiry would go no further. Obi-Wan decided to try a different tack.

“It seems probable that Anakin will give birth very soon. Do you have the medical facilities on-planet we will need to ensure that it goes smoothly?”

“You will have everything you need,” the Father said.

Sure they would…except for any prior personal experience in the delivery of a newborn, Obi-Wan thought to himself rebelliously.

“You should return to the Mother now. He misses your company.”

Obi-Wan knew a dismissal when he heard it. He crossed his arms and bowed once to the Father and again to the Daughter (who had not budged from her devotions or acknowledged his presence) before taking his leave.

By the time he had made his way back to their room, Anakin was already sound asleep, sprawled out on his back, and snoring. He had kicked the blanket aside at some point, and it was tangled down around his ankles. He was also completely naked.

Obi-Wan stared. Although he had always known about Anakin’s female reproductive capacity, Anakin had never looked like anything other than a boy, and then a man, to Obi-Wan. Even now, his penis, presumably sated and resting, nestled limply against his thigh. But the rest of Anakin currently looked far more like a young woman than a man. His breasts had swollen, and the nipples were larger and darker. His hips looked wider too, to better accommodate the delivery to come.

And then there was his belly, high and rounded and oh so rapidly ripening with their child. Changing, everything changing.

Obi-Wan pressed a gentle hand to that taut skin. _He could feel movement._

Choking back a sob that rose unbidden to his throat, Obi-Wan pulled the blanket back up around Anakin and, still fully clothed, lay down to rest beside him.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan learns that Anakin’s “alone” time left something to be desired. That something would be Obi-Wan, naturally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More sexy times. Hope they start your weekend off right!

Warm, afternoon sunlight and the clean, sleepy scent of a comfortable bed. Bliss. Still more than half-asleep, Obi-Wan made a pleased noise and tried to burrow deeper into the welcoming body beside him…

…and something, or rather some _one_ , poked Obi-Wan in the cheek.

“Next time we’re home, you should get that looked at. Used to see that sort of thing all the time on Tatooine. Could be malignant. Cancerous.”

Obi-Wan groaned and squinted up into the light. He was fully awake now.

Anakin’s face was there, hovering uncomfortably close to Obi-Wan’s own and filling his field of vision. He poked Obi-Wan again in same spot, just below his right eye. Obi-Wan managed not to flinch.

“Why the sudden interest in my mole? I’ve had it for as long as I’ve known you, and you’ve never mentioned it before.”

Anakin’s expression was enigmatic. “Your face,” he said. “I don’t want anything to happen to it.”

“I see,” Obi-Wan said. He didn’t, actually.

“Where were you?” Anakin asked in a change of subject so fast it was approaching lightspeed.

“I went to speak to the Father. I told you before I left,” Obi-Wan reminded him.

“You were gone forever. I missed you.”

He’d been gone for less than an hour. What was this, separation anxiety? “I was barely—” Obi-Wan began.

“I needed you,” Anakin said.

With a jolt, Obi-Wan became aware of the erection prodding his hip. Hadn’t he given Anakin time enough to deal with that on his own?! He was usually quite efficient…

“I needed you,” Anakin repeated. He was still gloriously naked.

“Y-you—” Obi-Wan heard himself stuttering.

“I need you now.” Anakin’s face was flushed pink with desire. Was his body’s chemistry being affected somehow? Leave it to the unruly, impetuous Anakin to experience something akin to increased libido as an unintended side effect of pregnancy.

Anakin reached for the laces at the front of his leggings. Obi-Wan pulled away, and in the split second that followed, he made his decision. Making peace with that decision, however, was going to take much, much longer.

“No, let me,” Obi-Wan said, changing their positions on the sleeping pallet so that Anakin was lying on his back, bent legs spread wide and open, and Obi-Wan was sitting between them.

That liminal beauty, both masculine and feminine as well as something uniquely _Anakin_ , nearly stopped his heart.

Obi-Wan had always felt vaguely embarrassed by his own erect penis. It was ill-proportioned, unwieldy, like an oversized kettle drum mallet that had been attached without regard to his midsection. Anakin, in contrast, had a penis that, in its own way, was as pretty and perfect as his face and that also, Obi-Wan discovered, fit perfectly in his mouth.

Anakin squeaked.

That was a noise Obi-Wan had never heard before. He wanted to hear it again. He stroked upward on the silky shaft so that he could nibble on the tip of the foreskin. Another squeak. Then he stroked downward, exposing the glans, a ripe, glistening rosefruit that he could lave with his tongue. And a third. Finally, he swallowed the shaft whole, hollowing out his cheeks and sucking hard, until his nose was buried in a nest of fragrant, wet pubic hair.

Wet? Curiously, and while continuing to elicit those amusing noises and stimulate that lovely penis with his mouth, throat, and tongue, Obi-Wan allowed his hands to drift. There was slick fluid everywhere between Anakin’s legs, so copious, in fact, that it was soaking into the fabric of the sleeping pallet beneath them. His anal sphincter, it seemed, was already open and leaking.

“Inside me, inside me, I need you inside me…!” Anakin had started babbling and undulating his hips wildly.

Obi-Wan inserted two fingers. The puckered ring of muscle gave way easily, and beyond was pure, liquid heat to welcome the intrusion. Obi-Wan touched those inner walls, lavishing adoring attention on every tiny fold, every imperfection of the flesh, until he found the swollen bulge of Anakin’s prostate gland. He poked a finger into it, like Anakin had poked a finger into Obi-Wan’s cheek earlier. _Hard._

Oh, sometimes revenge could be sweet indeed.

Whimpering softly, Anakin came. Delicious, bitter semen poured down Obi-Wan’s throat in long, slow pulses, and even more viscous fluid oozed out of Anakin’s anus to coat Obi-Wan’s hand. And when his attentions did not relent, Anakin came again, completely silent this time, but just as enchantingly wet as the first.

“Well? Is that what you needed?” Obi-Wan asked, once his mouth was free for speaking.

“Eumrph.”

Obi-Wan laughed and caressed the sweaty mound of Anakin’s pregnant belly. He could feel an independent flicker of relaxed pleasure—the life within would have shared in the chemical high of the mother’s orgasms. What _will_ this child think of its two naughty parents?

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, when no reply appeared to be forthcoming.

“Eumrph,” Anakin repeated. “But now I need the other half of you.”

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Apparently a mole on Ewan McGregor's face really was (pre-)cancerous. Get your moles checked out, people!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The “other half” of what Anakin wants from him isn’t what Obi-Wan was expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear. (Must be the hormones, right?)

“Given your condition, Anakin, I really don’t think—” Obi-Wan began rationalizing nervously as he made to rise from the sleeping pallet.

Anakin’s prosthetic hand closed tightly around Obi-Wan’s wrist, forestalling his escape. “Master, wait!”

“Besides,” Obi-Wan tried again, pointedly ignoring that durasteel grip, “you can’t possibly require more—”

“Master. _Obi-Wan_.”

Obi-Wan stopped talking. It had been nervous chatter anyway, he knew, and beneath him.

“You misunderstand. You don’t have to fuck me.” Obi-Wan winced at the coarseness of the word “fuck,” but Anakin paid no heed to his discomfort. “Do you realize how good it feels to be with you? It’s incredible. Better than anyone…” Gently, inexorably, Anakin maneuvered Obi-Wan into a prone position flat on his back beside him. He did not let go of Obi-Wan’s wrist. “So, I want you to feel good too. You deserve to feel good…” The hand holding his guided it with slow but irresistible force down to the swollen bulge in Obi-Wan’s leggings.

“And I want to watch.”

Two hands dived in. Obi-Wan gasped.

And then his hand—the very same hand that was still coated in the rich, thick fluids of Anakin’s pleasure—was grasping his own freed erection. His hips jerked spasmodically. Automatically, he began to stroke.

“Yes, that’s right,” Anakin murmured, a hot exhalation into the sensitive shell of Obi-Wan’s ear. He was lying on his side, propped up on one elbow. He could see _everything_.

Obi-Wan’s strokes found their familiar rhythm. The lubrication lessened the friction, made it at once sweeter and more devastating. He began to leak little droplets of precome as well, and the fragrance of the fluid from Anakin’s body mingled with the musk of Obi-Wan’s arousal. They both inhaled deeply, intoxicated, and moaned in unison.

At some point, Anakin had released his wrist and taken to stimulating Obi-Wan’s erection directly. Eyes heavy-lidded, expression intent, he focused on the glans, his nail-less, plasteel thumb probing the slit at the top and his forefinger rubbing against the frenulum in a circular motion on every downstroke of Obi-Wan’s hand.

Meanwhile, lewd words were falling from Anakin’s mouth. “I love your big cock and how it reams me, how it pumps me full of your seed. You put a baby in me with this cock…”

Obi-Wan blushed, saying nothing. Wherever in the galaxy had Anakin picked up this filthy language?

He forgot his embarrassment quickly enough; the mounting pleasure was so intense as to be nearly maddening. Every muscle in his body was tense; his toes were curling in their boots. He wasn’t wailing or tossing his head from side to side, true, but that was solely by sheer willpower.

“Anakin…” Obi-Wan warned breathlessly, his strokes decreasing in speed. He was close.

“It will be okay, Master,” Anakin soothed. “Don’t be afraid. Show me. Let yourself go.” He laced his fingers with Obi-Wan’s, and together, they took him over the edge.

The orgasm was lovely, deep, and annihilating. Obi-Wan expelled a long sigh of ecstasy as his semen spilled over their joined hands. The mutual stroking of his penis continued long after he had finished ejaculating, until he was boneless and languid, soft and sticky with satisfaction.

He had watched Anakin watch him the whole time. He felt dazed, awed, grateful. And never in his life had he felt so thoroughly beheld.  

“You’re beautiful when you come. I knew you would be!” Anakin enthused as he pressed happy kisses everywhere onto Obi-Wan his lips would reach. Then he lifted the hand that had so lately been on Obi-Wan’s erection to his face and regarded the milky semen that glistened with such striking visual contrast on those black and gold fingers. Tentatively, he touched one to the tip of his tongue.

“Mmm! Tastes good!”

Anakin reached for Obi-Wan’s leggings to open them fully. He bent over to begin delicately licking him clean.

“No, stop—”

His tongue followed the wet trail down the shaft of his penis, over and around his testicles, and below, at the juncture of his perineum and thighs—

“What. Is. _That_.”

Oh, by the Force, no. Too late.

Anakin had discovered the bite mark the Son had left on the inside of his thigh. Although it had been healing with unnatural speed, there was still a very ugly, distinctive—and sore—bruise there. One that Anakin was now pressing on mercilessly.

“Anakin— Owww! Don’t—!” Obi-Wan pleaded, his panic rising.

“ _Th_ _is_ is what you meant when you said you were just playing along, waiting for the chance to escape?!” Anakin asked, the pitch of his voice rising in tandem.

“I can explain!” Obi-Wan protested. “This isn’t— He—”

“How…how could you give yourself to him like that? Like it was nothing? Like _you’re_ nothing?! I thought you were mine.” Anakin’s brilliant blue eyes were wide and filling with tears. He stumbled to his feet and began gathering up his clothing.

“Anakin, wait…”

“I-I think I want to be alone right now.”

Naked and disheveled, his Jedi uniform a messy bundle of dark cloth in his arms, Anakin fled the room.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan reunites with Anakin, whom he finds taking his anger out on a bed of flowers, and makes a confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, aren’t they just soooooooo cute together? X-D

Obi-Wan let him go. He did not attempt to follow.

With the Son contained, the planet of Mortis posed no imminent threat to Anakin. And no matter how distraught, Anakin posed no imminent threat to himself—not while he was carrying an unborn child. Or at least that is what Obi-Wan wanted to believe of the man who, in only a few short days, had become something rather more to him than his brother and his best friend.

He remained in their room through the night, choosing meditation in lieu of sleep. It gave him plenty of time to reflect upon his many failures as a Jedi and, in particular, the weakness of the flesh to which he had succumbed. Surely he had been deceiving himself by thinking he could satisfy Anakin’s physiological cravings while simultaneously staving off his unhealthy jealous tendencies.

And surely he had been deceiving himself by pretending he hadn’t wanted it too. That was a sobering thought.

When morning arrived and Anakin had not yet returned, Obi-Wan decided to set out and look for him. Instinct directed him outside and down the slope of the mountain atop which the Father’s monastery was perched and into a secluded, sunlit valley set between three steep-sided cliffs.

This valley was filled with flowers in a dazzling profusion of colors and varieties. It made for an artistic but eerie display, with neither wind nor animal life of any sort to disturb the perfection of each bloom.

The only thing disturbing this veritable secret garden was one Anakin Skywalker.

Logically, given their current situation, the humanoid figure in the distance had to be his former Padawan. But had Obi-Wan glimpsed that figure in any other circumstance, he would have drawn a rather different conclusion:

Anakin looked, before the entire galaxy as Obi-Wan’s witness, like a heavily pregnant human female in rumpled, ill-fitting Jedi robes. One who was, at the moment, preoccupied with kicking or stomping on every single flower in full bloom which had the misfortune to cross her path.

It was a revelation, to see him like this. No longer would Obi-Wan mistake him for a boy or a man who happened to possess female sexual and reproductive characteristics. Anakin was both man and woman now, boy and girl, with the complex, contradictory essences of both genders realized in him, and all the more precious for that. This would transform their relationship—it would _have_ to.

As he closed the gap remaining between them, Obi-Wan was amused to note that Mortis’s flowers were thwarting Anakin’s destructive ambitions by reviving themselves to perfect health whenever his back was turned. The stars only knew how long he’d been at this one particular flowerbed.

Anakin also appeared to be in the midst of talking to himself. “—so you’ll see. You’re better off without a father, anyway. I never had one, and the closest I _did_ have is the Order’s most perfect Jedi Master, and perfect Jedi, you know, aren’t capable of love—”

Those angry, bitter words were actually being spoken to their child, Obi-Wan realized with a sharp pang.

“A Jedi Order comprised of beings incapable of love would be an altogether pathetic thing,” he interjected.

Anakin’s head shot up, and one hand curled protectively over his belly. His hair was a tangled, matted mess, his eyes were bloodshot, and his face was swollen and chapped from untold hours of snot and tears. He looked sad and vulnerable…and so very, very lovely, nonetheless.

“Am I to understand that there is some secret love even in the great Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi’s distant past?” Anakin snarled, although the viciousness of the question was rather mitigated by a fresh spill of tears. “Goes without saying that she must have been pretty desperate, whoever she was. Funny, I would’ve thought that the Duchess Satine had _options_ —”

“You asked me the other day if I’d ever ‘done it before,’ ” Obi-Wan said, interrupting again, his voice even, “and I told you I didn’t want to have that conversation.”

He paused, awaiting Anakin’s acknowledgment of his statement. After several seconds, Anakin nodded. He was still wary.

“Well, Anakin,” Obi-Wan continued. “Given everything that has happened, I thought I should set the record straight between us: You are my first.” He paused a second time.

“And only.” Yet another pause.

“And best.” The last word was said in a whisper.

A tableau, frozen.

Then, with a barking sound that was something between a laugh and a sob, Anakin stepped forward and fell into Obi-Wan’s arms, burying his face in the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck.

“You’ve never fucked anybody else, Master? Really?”

“ _Language_ ,” Obi-Wan remonstrated with a long-suffering sigh.

They stayed in that embrace for a long time, lost in comfort. Neither seemed willing to be the first to pull away.

Suddenly, Anakin stiffened against Obi-Wan. A pained yet strangely excited groan rumbled deep in his chest.

“Is this what a contraction is supposed to feel like?” he asked.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin gives birth.

“Well, it looks like you won’t be giving birth lying down,” Obi-Wan remarked dryly. “I hope you’ve no objections.”

The walk back up to the Father’s monastery felt much shorter and less arduous, bizarrely, than any journey Obi-Wan and Anakin had undertaken thus far on Mortis. Including Obi-Wan’s this morning. Therefore, despite minor abdominal discomfort, Anakin had not required assistance along the way. It was almost as if the planet itself had responded to their imminent need by altering its very geography.

This impression grew exponentially stronger upon their return to their quarters. The archway that had previously led to an en suite refresher now opened onto the sort of top-of-the-line medical facility that wealthy inhabitants of the Core installed into their private residences. Although unstaffed, it was clean and organized, well-stocked and fully-equipped to cope with the exigencies of childbirth.

Dominating the space was an ovoid birthing module. An all-in-one unit, both birthing platform and midwife with rudimentary AI, its interior consisted of an adjustable, heat-sensitive, gel-padded inner core to comfortably support the expectant mother’s body during labor and three paddle-shaped, prehensile appendages to assist in the delivery. These were obviously modeled on the appendages of a sentient species (Obi-Wan could not, for the life of him, remember what they called themselves) that was well-regarded throughout the galaxy for their expertise in obstetrics.

Thing was, the module’s design required the mother to give birth on her feet. While squatting, actually. Initially, this struck Obi-Wan as barbaric and unnecessarily cruel, but then he realized that Anakin’s unique anatomy would necessitate it.

Fortunately, Anakin hadn’t raised any objections. He hadn’t raised much of anything at all, truthfully, for once they had gotten him into an open-backed medical gown, Obi-Wan had started dosing him liberally with pain suppressants and mood stabilizers. If he were completely honest, Obi-Wan could have done with some of the latter for himself, but he wanted to keep his wits about him.

And so, he’d settled for giving Anakin enough for the two of them.

He wasn’t sure if Anakin was fully aware of his surroundings.

But in any case, all that was left to do was wait, and even without a chrono, Obi-Wan suspected that they’d already been doing that now for hours. At the moment, Anakin was reclining in a high-backed chair, unmoving and non-communicative, save for the occasional softly-murmured complaint about increasingly sharp pain in his abdomen and lower back and the unpleasant trickle of amniotic fluid collecting on an absorbent pad beneath him.

For his part, Obi-Wan simply stayed close to Anakin, holding his hand or running calm fingers through his hair, and maintained their companionable silence. He’d tried cracking a joke about how Anakin’s three-day pregnancy made it look so easy and maybe there was a bright economic future for Mortis in the export of medical tourism, but Anakin hadn’t been paying attention. If Anakin was listening to anything, it was to the pulse of life stirring within him, a music of the Force that only he could fully hear.

Obi-Wan was deep in empty meditation when a keening “Oh!” and a string of curses roused him.

“Feels like I need to take the mother of all shits,” Anakin said, tacking on a few more choice expletives for good measure as he lurched unsteadily up from the recliner and onto his feet.

Obi-Wan intercepted and caught him as he stumbled. “No, that’s your body telling you it’s time.”

He helped Anakin into the birthing module, sealed the entry hatch shut, and activated it. And then he waited some more. The module’s perfect, shiny, white plasteel starched the bloody, animal physicality of childbirth into a sanitized paean to advanced technology. He could feel Anakin in the Force, laboring but strong, hurting but safe. Yet he could not see or hear him. Obi-Wan wasn’t certain he entirely liked it, but he was glad that, after all was said and done, they had indeed been provided with everything that they needed.

When the module finally opened, its three curved panels dropping gracefully to the floor to reveal the new mother and child, Obi-Wan was definitely _not_ reminded of the Nubian legend of the Gungan who found a magical water lily which bloomed to reveal a beautiful fairy princess.

Okay, maybe he was. A little bit.

It had been one of Anakin’s favorite folktales; apparently he’d heard it from Senator Padmé Amidala. This princess, who was named for the flower that had sheltered her, was said to have gone on to found the first royal lineage of Naboo. She was Padmé’s namesake.

The three robotic appendages of the birthing module were still busily roving over Anakin’s body, cleaning and caring for him, as well as assiduously removing every last trace of tissue or fluid that might offend the delicate sensibilities of the Coruscanti elite. Anakin paid them no mind. He was fixated on the infant cradled in his arms.

Obi-Wan fell to his knees beside Anakin. With a beatific smile, Anakin passed the bundle, which was screaming lustily, over to him. While Anakin half-rolled, half-crawled, out of the birthing module, Obi-Wan inspected their child.

His vision blurred with hot tears. His heart was caught in a vise.

Perfect. Just… _perfect_.

“W-what a-are y-you…” Obi-Wan choked, unable even to complete his question.

“Going to name her? I’m not.”

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Women in [ancient Egypt gave birth while squatting](http://www.nytimes.com/2002/08/06/science/ancient-birth-bricks-found-in-egypt.html). I wasn’t just making that part up. 
> 
> (2) The part about the Nubian legend of the fairy princess, on the other hand, I _did_ make up. The name Padmé is probably a variation of the Indian female name [Padma](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Padma_\(attribute\)), which means “sacred lotus.” 
> 
> (3) Nothing like the birthing module or alien midwives referenced in this chapter have ever appeared in anything Star Wars that I know of. But I feel like they _could_. 
> 
> (4) Please do let me know what do you think of the birth scene. Love it? Hate it? By all means be honest—it’s my first mpreg fic. (Hopefully, nobody was holding out for something in the torture porn vein.)


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What’s in a name, anyway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Achievement Unlocked: I have now covered all of the kink meme prompt OP’s suggested plot points! Yay!! 
> 
> I’m not anywhere near done with this story, though. Just be aware that I now take sole credit ( _and_ blame) for whatever happens from here on… ;-)

Obi-Wan wasn’t listening.

He had eyes and ears only for the baby in his arms. Her eyes were screwed shut, true, and she was purple-faced and howling. Hair of indeterminate color so sparse and fine made her appear virtually bald. Obi-Wan didn’t care. As far as he was concerned, this lump of newborn flesh was the most beautiful little girl in the entire galaxy.

But _was_ she a girl, really? Obi-Wan eased the slit between her legs open (an action for which he was rewarded with an even louder, earsplitting howl) and gave it a thorough inspection. Well, it certainly looked female, as best as he could tell, but Anakin’s family tree did have some rather unusual anatomical and genetic anomalies. There’d be no way to know any of that without thorough testing, and what if, for whatever reason, “she” turned out to be “he”…? In the meantime, perhaps a gender-neutral name would be the wisest—

Waitaminute.

“Either the joy of the occasion has made me delirious, or did I hear you say that you’re not going to give your daughter a name?” Obi-Wan asked, turning to look at Anakin.

Anakin, who was on the floor beside Obi-Wan, one leg curled beneath him, protecting his sore underparts, and the other bent awkwardly in front. Anakin, whose shoulders were rounded and slumped forward with entirely understandable exhaustion. Anakin, who nonetheless managed to look flushed and proud.

“Yeah. I figured that’d make it easier not to get attached. So you can spare me the lecture, Master,” Anakin said. His voice had acquired a familiar cadence of overstuffed authority he used whenever he thought he was being a good little Jedi and Obi-Wan was in a position to notice.

An overgrown child who has given birth to another child, Obi-Wan realized, and they are both mine. (Sort of.) Just my luck.

“You still intend to hand over your child to the Father.” It wasn’t a question.

“That was the deal, wasn’t it?” Anakin shrugged, unconcerned. “I’m sure he won’t object to visitation rights. It should be easier for us to swing by regularly after the war is over.” He was acting like he deserved some kind of special Jedi High Council Nonattachment Prize.

Obi-Wan was utterly flabbergasted. He had meditated on what was to come, and he hadn’t believed Anakin would— _could_ —do it. “Yes, that _was_ the deal, but choosing a name wouldn’t be inappropriate—”.

“Besides,” Anakin interrupted, “names aren’t exactly all the rage here. If you haven’t noticed already. She’ll fit right in that way.” That last bit was an attempt at humor. It fell flat.

Obi-Wan’s eyebrow lifted eloquently. He knew Anakin understood its meaning. Sure enough, Anakin ducked his head and looked away.

Their baby’s cries filled the uncomfortable silence that persisted between them.

Finally, Anakin spoke again. “So, uhh, why doesn’t she stop crying?” he asked.

Unbelievable. Leave it to Anakin to fall back on the stupidly obvious when he was feeling uncertain and wanting to conceal that fact. Still, focusing on the here and now might well be the best course. Ah, yes. Master Qui-Gon would be proud indeed.

“She’s hungry, Anakin,” Obi-Wan explained gently. “You’re going to have to feed her.”

“B-but how—”

Obi-Wan indicated Anakin’s chest with a tilt of his chin. “You know how.”

“Oh.”

Anakin lifted the front of his medical gown and looked down at himself with undisguised curiosity. His breasts were swollen, already leaking with anticipation. Smiling encouragingly, Obi-Wan passed their daughter back to Anakin and positioned himself at Anakin’s back so that Anakin could lean against his chest. From his new vantage point over Anakin’s shoulder, Obi-Wan reached around to brush the tip of his thumb lightly against the baby’s lips. Her mouth opened reflexively in response, and together, they guided her to a nipple.

“Where did you learn—” Anakin began, shocked.

His words cut off abruptly with a gasp of almost erotic pleasure. She had successfully latched on and begun to suckle. Now, the only sound filling the room was that of a baby’s contented slurping.

And as her suckling grew stronger, more confident, she opened breathlessly blue eyes and met her mother’s gaze for the very first time. Unquestioning, unconditional, primal devotion. Her mother’s identical blue eyes returned her gaze with equal ardor.

She pressed a tiny, splayed palm against his chest, directly over the exhilarated beat of his heart.

“You’re going to have a very, very important job someday. You’ll keep those crazy Force Wielders in line, won’t you, little one? The galaxy will be relying on you…”

Anakin using baby talk. The content of which made Obi-Wan shrink and cringe inwardly. _Unbelievable_.

“Anakin, I think…” Obi-Wan murmured.

But now Anakin was the one who wasn’t listening.

Resigned, Obi-Wan wrapped his arms protectively around the waist of the mother nursing his child. Name or no name, Obi-Wan knew, it wasn’t going to matter. The love was already there, bright as a plasma flame burning between them.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) At some point, I know I’m going to get asked who/what the baby actually _is_. By all means feel free to speculate, but this is intended to be one of the story’s secrets that will eventually be revealed. So in the meantime, I’m not tellin’!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin and Obi-Wan adjust to having a child. Anakin adjusts to the possibility that maybe he’s becoming more attached than he realizes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nice and ordinary domestic scene. Well, as ordinary as it ever gets with these two.

For the first three days, the baby did what human babies usually do: eat, sleep, and fill diapers.

The baby’s mother, however, was only managing two of those three activities.

Anakin was justifiably exhausted. After the emotional high of the birth had worn off, he had shuffled out of the medical facility and gone straight to bed. He’d fallen asleep, practically comatose, their child nestled tenderly in his arms, and when he wasn’t sleeping, he was eating—he could put away food faster than a starving rancor.

Food for the two of them appeared at regular intervals whenever Anakin awoke. Malastarian cuisine, usually.

At the same time as he was sleeping or eating, more often than not, he was also breastfeeding. The hard-headed, single-minded Anakin had never evinced any particular proclivity for multitasking in the past, so that, from Obi-Wan’s perspective, was to witness a minor miracle in action.

But although the space adjacent to their room had reverted to an ordinary, albeit well-appointed, refresher, Anakin had not yet used it for its obvious intended purpose. Not even once.

“You’re not the one with bacta patches in his ass,” Anakin snapped when Obi-Wan tentatively broached this sensitive subject for what felt like the hundredth time.

“But it’s just not… _natural_ ,” Obi-Wan protested.

“If I don’t want to and I don’t have to, what’s the problem?”

Indeed, what _was_ the problem? Mortis had its mysteries, and they had barely begun to reveal themselves. Obi-Wan felt increasingly like he was losing his grip on mundane reality, and that was dangerous because a big part of him never wanted to be sane again.

Every single second with their daughter was a blessing from the Force. Anakin nursed her regularly; she hardly ever had reason to cry. Instead, she watched her parents with her big, wise blue eyes and gurgled and smiled. Oh, she was beautiful when she smiled.

She was, in fact—and Obi-Wan was absolutely certain that he wasn’t being biased _at all_ —beautiful all the time. Her hair had thickened to the color and texture of Corellian yellow shimmersilk, but this seemed likely to change as she grew older. It pleased Obi-Wan to imagine that, from certain angles in the afternoon sunlight, her locks were showing hints of his own copper hues.

Anakin said she got her good looks from her father, which she’d be able to see for herself if only Papa wouldn’t hide his handsome face behind all that facial hair. Obi-Wan, on the other hand, thought she was a spitting image of Anakin. It seemed that, on this matter, they would never agree.

Obi-Wan sighed. At least the child was filling her diapers. In fact, she probably needed changing now.

That was, unsurprisingly, the one parental duty that Anakin declined. Obi-Wan was impressed he had taken to motherhood as readily as he did. Anakin generally had less empathy for other living creatures than many Force-blind beings, and he never enjoyed crèche duty at the Temple, even back when he was a youngling himself. Obi-Wan figured he’d told Ahsoka the truth when he said that having his own Padawan learner had put him off the very thought of ever having children.

Ah yes, she definitely needed her diaper changed. He took her into the refresher and did just that.

***

At the beginning of the fourth day, everything changed.

The baby had finished suckling. Anakin continued to rock her, sated and happy, in his arms. As had become customary, her tiny hand rested above his heart. Then she said, quite clearly, “Mama.”

Anakin burst into joyful tears and spun his daughter around high above his head in a gleeful, windmilling circle. “Yes, yes! That’s right! Master, did you hear that?! I’m your Mama. And this,” he gestured toward Obi-Wan, “is your Papa. Can you say ‘Papa?’ ”

“Mama,” she repeated.

“No, say ‘Papa,’ ” Anakin tried correcting her.

Obi-Wan chuckled. He wasn’t offended. The mother always came first in the life of child, and that was as it should be. He wrapped his arms around Anakin while Anakin nuzzled the giggling child with ticklish kisses. They stayed that way for a long time.

“How did she do it?” Anakin whispered.

Obi-Wan knew exactly what Anakin meant. “Your mother knew that giving you up meant a better life for you. She wanted you to fulfill your true potential—no matter what she had to sacrifice.”

Anakin looked at him through long, waterlogged lashes. “I know, but…” He blinked repeatedly through the tears. “I can’t. I can’t do it, Master! I can’t leave her. I can’t give her up.”

And here it was. The declaration he had long been anticipating. At last. On some level, he knew, the hard part had officially just begun. But at least the waiting, all the agonized waiting, was over.

“We should speak with the Father,” Obi-Wan said.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan stops pretending. Now, he and Anakin must contemplate some of the difficult consequences of their choices…and they will be difficult indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In other news, I saw _Rogue One_ this weekend, and it has inspired me to new heights (new depths?) of horrifying slash fanfiction writing. My take on the Galen Erso/Orson Krennic slash pairing, it seems, is proving even more unpopular on AO3 than my unpopular 3+ takes on the unpopular Vader/Palpatine pairing! Somehow, I feel like I’ve accomplished something significant here. Anyways, anyone who likes “Mother” I would deem likely to despise “[It Bleeds](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8896006%22),” but if I’m wrong about that by all means let me know! ;-)

“Why? I don’t understand…” Anakin gulped and clutched the baby tightly against his breast.

“Mama?” she asked, fussing anxiously.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath as he gathered his thoughts.

Two weeks ago, Republic military forces patrolling the Outer Rim had intercepted a transmission which was found to have hidden within it a Jedi distress code not in use for over two-thousand years. Their original mission brief had been to go the Chrelythiumn system, where the transmission had been intercepted, and investigate. The Jedi High Council had empowered them to provide any _reasonable_ assistance to whomever had sent out the distress call. Obi-Wan, as the highest-ranking member of the mission team, was presumed to have final discretion.

In practice, of course, he and Anakin usually functioned as equals on their missions together—Obi-Wan had made a particular point of this once Anakin had been Knighted—and a certain amount of flexibility was to be expected for exploratory missions such as this one. Anakin was well-known for rash decision-making, and on occasion Obi-Wan’s fellow seated members of the Council had perhaps been a bit more forgiving of his apparent inability to control his former apprentice than they may have been with the leader of another team.

This time, however, Obi-Wan knew he would have to take full personal responsibility before the Council for the deal Anakin had struck with the Father, and he was under no illusions about how unfavorably the Council would regard it. After all, Anakin didn’t just make that baby himself, now did he?

He tried not to remember how wonderful it was to make love, tasting Anakin’s pleasure, burying himself in the exquisite heat of Anakin’s body…

And while Obi-Wan truly believed, as he knew Anakin still did, that the exceptional assistance provided was proportional to the exceptional needs of the Force Wielders, he could not in his right mind expect anyone else to do so. Goodness knows _he_ wouldn’t have believed it.

Were Anakin willing to give up the child now, Obi-Wan might— _might_ —have been able to convince the Council that their actions on Mortis warranted, at worst, temporary sanction, but since he was not—

“You want to keep the baby,” Obi-Wan said. It wasn’t a question, and there was no longer any point in prevaricating. “You know the Code. You will be stripped of your GAR command and expelled from the Jedi Order—”

“I don’t care—”

“And so will I.”

The silence was deafening. Even the baby was quiet.

Anakin’s eyes were wide, and to Obi-Wan’s surprise, they began to fill once more with fresh tears. “But I— I didn’t think— No, Master, _no_ … You are a Jedi. You…”

When he was a boy, Anakin used to like to tell everyone that his Master was the greatest Jedi of the Order. Sometimes, Obi-Wan suspected that he was trying to soften him up. More often, he worried that Anakin’s childish assertions were symptomatic of overweening pride—where his own excellence naturally extended to all beings who associated with him. On some level, though, he probably believed what he was saying; certainly, Anakin had never known Obi-Wan as anything other than a Jedi. Would he even be Obi-Wan Kenobi if he weren’t a Jedi anymore?

Well, of course he would. Obi-Wan did not need the trappings of the Order to be _himself_.

“ _Yes_ , Anakin,” Obi-Wan replied, gentle yet firm. “So you will not—are you listening to me?—you will _not_ do anything stupid like try to abscond with the child off-planet or otherwise renege on your deal with the Father. The child stays on Mortis, and if you wish to keep her, then you do too.”

“A-and you? W-what will you do…?”

Obi-Wan would do his duty. As he always did. “ _I_ must report back to the Council. It is incumbent upon me to inform them of what has transpired. And I would like to apprise them of the existence of these powerful Force Wielders; this is of utmost importance as I am aware of no mention of them in the Archives. And finally, Ahsoka will need a new Master to complete her training, Anakin, or have you forgotten about your Padawan?”

Anakin looked away. He had indeed forgotten about Ahsoka, and now the guilt was weighing heavily upon him. “I have been neglecting my responsibilities…” he muttered.

“Mama!” the baby scolded.

“You have,” Obi-Wan agreed. “It is fortunate that I am responsible enough for the both of us,” he added wryly.

Obi-Wan reached out to rest a comforting hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “After I have done what is necessary, I will return. You are my responsibility, too. Both of you,” Obi-Wan amended.

“I… Thank you,” Anakin said finally, although both of them understood that a verbal acknowledgement of the depth of Obi-Wan’s commitment simply wasn’t necessary. There was already so much more than mere words between them. Like their child, for starters. “I guess that means we really do need to find the Father now, huh?”

“Yes, I guess we do. But _this_ time, young one,” Obi-Wan said in a stern tone that broached no argument, “you will let _me_ do the talking.”

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan petitions the Father for leave to remain on Mortis. There’s good news…and bad news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst—incoming!
> 
> Please Note: Chapter 17 has also been heavily revised. After posting yesterday, I realized that some of the conversation in it was, ahem, a bit premature. Whoopsie. I think the chapter is funnier now, though, so that should be some small consolation.

They decided to seek the Father without delay.

Anakin was uncharacteristically subdued. As had been his custom as a Padawan, he fell one step behind and slightly to the right of Obi-Wan. Their daughter he carried securely cradled in his arms.

Obi-Wan, by contrast, felt in his comfort zone for the first time since their arrival on Mortis. Although he was undoubtedly best known for having been the first Jedi in a thousand years to defeat a Sith in single combat, his primary training was as a diplomat, a negotiator. _This_ was what he was good at. And now that their position going forward was finally clear, Obi-Wan was confident they would be able to reach an agreement amenable to all parties.

The Father was not difficult to locate. He, along with the Daughter, was in the nave of the monastery, exactly as he’d been when Obi-Wan had sought an audience with him previously. He sat enthroned like a high priest on the dais, while the Daughter knelt in an attitude of devout prayer at his feet. Both of their heads were bowed.

This time around, Obi-Wan noticed how the rough-hewn stone floor around the Daughter had been worn smooth, evidently by long use. Another spot adjacent to where she knelt was equally worn. It must have been where the Son paid similar homage.

But the Son, as before, was nowhere to be found. Had his “containment” actually meant banishment?

Anakin stiffened perceptibly behind Obi-Wan. He made a strangled sound that was somewhere between a cough and a gasp. Obi-Wan knew he could sense the way the Force flowed through this space and the bodies of the Force Wielders themselves, how its energy was transformed in nature wherever it touched them.

The baby hummed and cooed with delight. She fisted the air, as if trying to grab onto something invisible to everyone but her.

At the sound, the Father lifted his head to fix that luminous, unsettling green stare upon them.

Taking this as a tacit acknowledgement of their presence, Obi-Wan approached the foot of the dais, urging Anakin forward to stand directly at his side. Together, they bowed deeply.

“We have done as agreed,” Obi-Wan began without preamble.

“Yes. You have my sincerest gratitude for providing the child who will inherit the destiny of The Chosen One. As agreed, you are free to be on your way,” the Father replied.

“And if The Chosen One does not wish to be parted from her?” Obi-Wan asked.

The Father’s expression grew stormy. Tiny hairs on the back of Obi-Wan’s neck prickled.

“Please do not misunderstand,” he hastened to add. “We do not presume to take the child from Mortis. But we do ask that, as her parents, we be permitted to remain here to care for her. As a parent yourself, we hope you can sympathize with our position.”

There was a pregnant pause, but some of the electric tension in the room seemed to dissipate.

“Mortis is not for you,” the Father said at last. “However, I cannot prevent you from staying, no more than I can defy the will of the Force.”

“Then we have your blessing to remain?”

The Daughter, who had heretofore been as unmoving and silent as a statue, jumped suddenly to her feet. Her aura flared blindingly bright. “Father, I do not think—” she said urgently.

The Father made a sharp, abortive motion with his hand, and the Daughter sank back onto her knees in contrition, her light fading back to a muted, golden glow.

How terribly… _concerning_.

The Father turned his attention back to Obi-Wan. His voice was cool. “Such blessing is not mine to give…”

Neither Obi-Wan nor Anakin dared even to breathe. The baby gazed curiously up at the Father.

“But if remain you wish, then remain you shall.”

Both men released breath they’d hardly realized they’d been holding in a relieved rush. Anakin laid a loud, joyful smooch on the baby’s lips, and Obi-Wan reached out to ruffle Anakin’s shaggy head of hair affectionately.

“We are profoundly grateful for your generous accommodation in this sensitive matter,” Obi-Wan said. The hard part was over. The rest, he had every reason to hope, would be easy. “And with your indulgence, I would request a short leave of absence from Mortis in order to settle my affairs. Then I will return to resume full-time care of our daughter.”

But now the Father was shaking his head slowly. “That, I am afraid, is not be possible. While you are free to go at any time, the nature of the planet will make it impossible for you to return.”

Although it took some time to sink in, the meaning of the Father’s words was all too obvious.

“Oh no, _no_ …” Anakin whispered, already in a paroxysm of agony. He knew what was coming next.

Obi-Wan heard Anakin’s exclamation of despair as if from a remote distance. He felt hot, lightheaded. Sick. He didn’t want to have to do this, but his choice might as well have been made for him: Until he surrendered his lightsaber to the Council, Obi-Wan knew his duty as a Jedi had to take priority.

“Understood,” he said. “Please return our shuttle. I shall depart immediately.”

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan says goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, this one is kinda sad. Okay, maybe a lot sad.

“Anakin.”

“Don’t.”

“You know I have to—”

“No. Just… Don’t.”

The Father had informed them that they would find their shuttle where they had first landed it. Now they were standing at the foot of the stairs leading up to the entrance of the Father’s monastery, and Obi-Wan was preparing to take his leave.

Anakin gazed vacantly up into sunlit sky as if he could see straight into the heart of the galaxy and all the way back to faraway Coruscant. His face was drawn, and the shadows under his eyes were so purple and dark they appeared bruised.

Obi-Wan held the baby. She was quiet. Waiting patiently for whatever was to come.

“She will have her mother. That’s the important thing. I’m not that special. As you’ve so rightly said in the past, children don’t need fathers,” Obi-Wan observed.

Anakin did not reply.

Obi-Wan sighed and regarded their daughter sadly. He’d never known what it was to have a father _or_ a mother and had never felt the less for it. He did have parents, presumably, or at least a mother, who had surrendered their Force-sensitive infant to the Jedi Order in accordance with Republic law. Obi-Wan knew that some did so more readily than others, but surely the loss affected most beings.

Now Obi-Wan knew what all those parents of future Jedi must have felt like. He would never see his daughter again. The realization hurt a hundred times worse than a blaster bolt taken directly to the chest, and he didn’t like it one bit.

But a Jedi’s duty came first, second, and last. Jedi did not allow themselves to be ruled by their feelings.

“You are a Jedi. You must do your duty. I know, Master,” Anakin said, finally breaking the silence between them, echoing the thoughts that had already been reverberating loudly in Obi-Wan’s mind.

Then he turned to look directly at Obi-Wan. His eyes were bloodshot but dry of tears, and his expression became fierce. “You are a Jedi,” he repeated. “And you wouldn’t be the man I love if you did otherwise.”

“Oh, Anakin…”

_Accept the pain, let it flow through you, and then let it go._

Anakin did not seem to expect any further reply from Obi-Wan. He continued without pause in a different vein, “I’m sorry to have been such a disappointment to you, Master.”

Wonders never ceased. What an occasion for Anakin’s favorite expression of feigned contrition to sound completely heartfelt. Obi-Wan found himself shaking his head with rueful humor, but when he spoke it was in utter seriousness. “You haven’t disappointed me, Anakin. There is greatness in you. Courage and generosity, compassion and commitment. I am very proud of you, and you are…you are the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. You and our child. You have brought so much joy into my life. I don’t regret any of it, so neither should you.”

“Well, good!” Anakin said, turning fierce again. “Because I _don’t_ regret it. And you better not fuck anybody else with that awesome cock of yours, or use that talented mouth for anything other than talking. I’ll find out if you do, I swear, and I _will_ hunt you down. You’re still mine!”

“ _Anakin_ —!” Obi-Wan flushed crimson at the obscene language. Leave it to Anakin to lower the tone of any proceeding! He had a sudden, irrational urge to cover the baby’s ears. Which was silly. She was much too young to understand.

“And I’ll always be yours,” Anakin concluded.

Then he gathered both Obi-Wan and their child into a big, full-bodied embrace and pulled Obi-Wan into a passionate, openmouthed kiss. Obi-Wan reciprocated willingly, eagerly, as the kiss became something hot, desperate, and needy. Currents of desire fizzed and danced from lips to loins. Ah, stars, what Anakin could do to him…

It would never be enough. But it would have to be. Obi-Wan broke the kiss and pulled away.

He still held their child in his arms. This would probably be the last time he ever saw her, so he tried to commit every last detail of her precious features to memory. Big blue eyes, high cheekbones, an impish twist to her mouth. And yes, there was definitely a reddish glint to her hair—it hadn’t been his imagination. There would be a part of him that stayed behind after all. Smiling, he cradled her close and nuzzled her cheek, inhaling her sweet, milky scent.

After what seemed like much too short a time, he passed her back to Anakin.

“I will give everyone your regards,” Obi-Wan said.

“Thank you.”

“It will be all right. Don’t worry, and don’t lose hope. No one knows what the future holds. Not everything is for forever.”

“As you say, Master.”

And then there was nothing more to say. Obi-Wan knew he had already tarried too long.

“Farewell, my friend,” he said with all the love he had in him. “May the Force be with you.”

“May the Force be with you,” Anakin echoed.

Obi-Wan turned to leave. He had a long journey ahead of him. He did not look back. Behind him, the baby started to cry.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan wallows in his grief. Until he is joined by someone unexpected, that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you see this plot twist coming? Be honest! X-D

Mortis was making it exceedingly difficult for Obi-Wan to leave. The journey back to the shuttle should have taken mere hours, yet somehow, after nearly an entire day, he was still walking. He wasn’t even getting close.

Previously, he’d wondered if perhaps the planet was capable of altering its geography in response to imminent need. Now, though, he was certain that the Sith-forsaken place simply had a mind of its own.

One that took perverse pleasure in making him miserable. As if he weren’t already staggering beneath a nigh unbearable burden of misery already.

Inevitably, night sped forward to overtake him, and with the onrushing darkness came the storm, pouring sheets of rain so thick and blinding that even frequent stabs of blue-white lightning through the sky did nothing to illuminate his path. Worse still, the ground was becoming treacherously waterlogged, and with none of the daylight vegetation to hold it secure, Obi-Wan knew that mudslides were a real risk on these steep mountainside trails.

Obi-Wan was left with no choice but to stop and wait until morning. Fortunately, one of Mortis’s many crystal caves provided convenient shelter from the elements. It may have been the same one he and Ahsoka had used, in fact—it did look similar—but there was no trace of the fire they had built or any other sign of prior habitation. As before, giant kyber crystal formations scattered throughout the cave cast their own eerie, pale light.

That light was better than nothing. There wouldn’t be any fire tonight without suitable tinder, Obi-Wan thought regretfully, shivering a little as he stripped out of his waterlogged outer garments. While Obi-Wan was no danger of freezing to death, creature comforts were definitely in short supply. At least the bare rock beneath him was bone dry.

The peace of meditation eluded him; sleep was out of the question. Quiet, undemanding solitude, normally a pleasure, had become torment. Finally, Obi-Wan allowed himself the luxury of grief. Oh, to be curled beside Anakin, with their child between them! To listen to the wet, contented sounds of her suckling when, without waking, Anakin would offer his breast to her. No, he would not cling to his selfish desires. All things pass, in time. Even love. And the pain of it. Yes, even this…

Something brushed lightly against his cheek.

The wings of a cave-dwelling insect? But no, he’d seen no animal life whatsoever on Mortis—

“Why are you crying?”

Obi-Wan leapt to his feet, startled, sadness temporarily forgotten.

“Master Qui-Gon!”

Qui-Gon’s translucent apparition stood before him, examining the teardrop hanging from his fingertip. Then he closed his hand into a fist. When he opened it, all trace of the liquid had disappeared.

“I have only ever seen you cry once before, Obi-Wan.”

Theed. Maul. Qui-Gon slain, dying in his arms. _Train the boy_. He hardly needed to be reminded of that. Almost in spite of himself, Obi-Wan flinched.

Qui-Gon seemed to take note of Obi-Wan’s discomfort. His tone gentled. “Whatever happened to my happy, headstrong young apprentice?”

“He was an early casualty of war, I’m afraid,” Obi-Wan said with a rueful chuckle.

“A war you are destined to lose.”

“If there is something you know about—”

Qui-Gon ignored him. “But that is not what has changed you.”

“Master?” He didn’t understand.

“Sit. Join me.” Qui-Gon sank cross-legged to the ground and indicated a spot directly in front of him. After a moment’s hesitation, Obi-Wan obeyed.

Smiling, Qui-Gon reached out to pat Obi-Wan’s knee. It was something he had once done often. There was no sensation of skin on skin accompanying the touch; instead, he felt a subtle, low-frequency vibration, like an idling landspeeder engine, that filled his body with a tingling warmth. It chased away the chill of the cave. Obi-Wan’s own mouth fell open in a surprised, lopsided grin.

“How many times did I tell you not to follow the edicts of the Council blindly?” Qui-Gon asked. The words themselves were harsh, but they were spoken with a familiar, tolerant humor.

“But I don’t!” Obi-Wan couldn’t help protesting.

“No, Obi-Wan, you have done something even worse—you became one of its members.”

Ah.

His Master had been all too often in disagreement with, if not open defiance of, the Jedi High Council. He had believed that they were too concerned with rules and strictures, ritual and tradition, too deferential to the politics of the Republic and not sufficiently attentive to the will of the Force. Were he still alive when Obi-Wan was awarded his seat on the Council, Qui-Gon would probably have (only half jokingly) accused his former Padawan of joining the dark side.

Of course, Qui-Gon had learned his mistrust of the Council from _his_ Master. Onetime Jedi Master, now Count, Dooku. Who, citing corruption in the Senate and a raft of other grievances of variable merit, _had_ joined the dark side.

Would Qui-Gon really have joined Dooku in his war of secession against the Galactic Republic, as Dooku had insisted during Obi-Wan’s imprisonment on Geonosis? Obi-Wan, loathe to think ill of his former Master, told himself that Qui-Gon’s views were merely a decade out-of-date. If he had seen the atrocities, the suffering, the unspeakable destruction of galaxy-wide war… He would have changed with the times, wouldn’t he?

“My former Master is lost forever, consumed by the dark side,” Qui-Gon said, as if he could sense the direction of Obi-Wan’s thoughts. “But he was exactly right, Obi-Wan: A Jedi must not be beholden to the Republic.”

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghost!Qui-Gon stages an intervention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about some happiness for Mortis’s newest little family during the holiday season? :-)

As a Padawan, Obi-Wan would have acknowledged Qui-Gon’s words respectfully and reflected upon them in private at his leisure. As a Jedi Master whose decisions contributed to the strategic objectives of the Order, however, he felt obliged to argue the point.

“We are not ‘beholden,’ Master. In the service of the greater good, we have chosen to give our allegiance to the principles of democracy, and to the Republic. A Republic, I need not remind one such as you, the Jedi Order helped to create.” It was exceedingly hard not to become defensive.

“The Jedi are protectors and philosophers, not soldiers. The Order should not have allowed itself to be drawn into war. The violence, and the chaos it engenders, is a distraction.”

“Hardly! Trillions of innocent lives are at stake!” Obi-Wan exclaimed. The apparent lack of compassion was scandalous.

“And are you so certain that those lives are being saved by your actions?” Qui-Gon asked, calm but relentless. “Your duty is to the Force. What is it telling you?”

“W-what—?!” Now Obi-Wan was truly feeling his ire rise. Pure sophistry, surely! Worthy of Count Dooku, perhaps, but not his former Master…

Qui-Gon’s placidity did not waver. “ _Focus_. There is only the present moment. What is it telling you?”

Obi-Wan hesitated. “T-this p-planet… Master, it confuses my senses…”

He’d done things here he never dreamed himself capable. First he’d been overwhelmed by lust, tempting him from the correct path, the Jedi Code, and then… And then…

“It does not! Mortis is stronger and purer in the Force than anywhere else in the universe. What does the Force will? _Tell me,_ Obi-Wan.”

With supreme effort, Obi-Wan tamped down his anger in response to Qui-Gon’s challenge. These negative emotions were beneath one such as Obi-Wan. And besides, he didn’t have to reflect on the question. No, Obi-Wan had already felt the will of the Force, but he’d dismissed it as the strangeness of their circumstances here, of the selfishness of his heart attempting to overrule the logic of his head.

_Dearest Anakin, forgive me…_

He was ashamed.

It undoubtedly showed on his face. Qui-Gon reached forward again to pat him on the knee. His former Master’s goodness, his serenity and his strength, poured into Obi-Wan. “My Obi-Wan. You are a credit to the Order, and to yourself,” he said.

Obi-Wan bowed his head low. “Thank you, Master.”

“I am with you as the Force is with you,” Qui-Gon said. “Always.”

There was a tiny shift in the currents of the Force. When Obi-Wan looked up again, Qui-Gon had vanished, and wan light filtered through the entrance to the cave.

It was morning.

***

After Obi-Wan departed from the crystal cave, he did not attempt to return to the Father’s monastery. Guided by his instincts, he made straight for the secluded valley filled with flowers. Unsurprisingly, it took hardly any time at all to arrive.

Anakin was there, in the same flowerbed as before, but he was not stomping around or throwing a tantrum. Instead, he sat amidst the blossoms, hunched over ever so slightly, as quiet and still as a statue, seemingly unaware of his surroundings. His back was turned away from Obi-Wan.

Their daughter was playing nearby, batting her hands against the variegated leaves and petals and giggling, delighted by the riot of color and getting grass stains on her white dress. Anakin wasn’t paying her any mind, but there was nothing in the field to harm her, and she already seemed more than capable of making her own fun.

The baby was the first to notice Obi-Wan’s approach. She stopped what she was doing, stood, and began to teeter on unsure legs toward him.

“Papa!!” she shrieked.

Obi-Wan dropped to his knees and, laughing joyfully, scooped her up as she tumbled headlong into his arms.

“Papa, Papa, Papa, Papa,” she repeated over and over, little fingers tangled in his beard as he showered her with adoring kisses.

Anakin saw him. He’d risen to his feet but had not otherwise moved.

His clothes were different. _He_ looked…different. In lieu of his customary Jedi uniform, Anakin was wearing a simple, long tunic with a hem falling below his knees, belted at the waist, and loose, linen slacks. Everything was the same dark shade of brown, nearly black. Otherwise, his feet were bare, and no glove concealed his prosthetic hand. His lightsaber was nowhere in evidence.

“You didn’t leave,” Anakin said. Voice neutral, even.

“I didn’t,” Obi-Wan agreed. Quiet. Also neutral and even.

The child toddled back off to the flowerbed, babbling incomprehensibly, so self-evidently pleased. Obi-Wan let her go and gave his full attention to Anakin.

“It was my Master’s dying wish that I pledge my life to you,” he began, “and so I did. If you had left the Order before completing your training, I would have followed you. That was my foremost duty, and I have come to understand that it is my duty, as well as my pleasure, to stay with you now. You were right, Anakin—I am yours.”

_I am yours._

He never dreamed he’d ever speak those words aloud. This was the closest Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi had ever come in his life to a confession of love.

“I have always been yours, and I always will be,” Obi-Wan concluded.

He pulled Anakin into a ravishing kiss. He never dreamed he’d ever initiate a kiss like this, either. Anakin emitted a muffled croak of disbelief, and then it was sweet and aching and perfect, Anakin’s soft lips mobile and responsive against his own, and it seemed to go on forever.

Maybe it did go on forever.

Maybe they would never, ever have to let each other go.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deconstruction, construction, and finding new ways of fitting together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R.I.P. Carrie Fisher, 1956-2016

“You’re being so… _responsible_. I’m impressed.”

Anakin ignored him.

“It’s a compliment.”

Anakin favored him with a murderous glare. If looks could kill, Obi-Wan mused, I’d be ash on the funeral pyre.

“Honest.”

But he _was_ impressed—and touched. Upon their arrival back at the Father’s monastery, Anakin had immediately confiscated Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. Now, he was in the process of removing the focusing crystal. It was simply unacceptable, he’d decided, for deadly weapons that activated with the touch of a button to be anywhere near the reach of their child. He had already disassembled and hidden his own lightsaber away.

And more had changed than just Anakin’s clothing. Their shared room had become larger, and it had acquired a wardrobe, a bassinet, and a colorful set of toy building blocks. The toy blocks were blunt-edged, squishy, and slightly sticky and could be used, Obi-Wan discovered, to erect complicated structures limited only by the builder’s imagination. They were definitely the sort of thing Anakin would like.

At the moment, Obi-Wan and the child were building a miniature Jedi Temple—if the Temple’s five towers were spiral-shaped, with random arches and buttresses flying off in all directions. The child giggled and shrieked with delight as the edifice grew ever higher and more complicated; some of the most interesting and attractive features were actually her idea. This early penchant for fitting things together suggested that she would, in time, grow to be her mother’s daughter indeed.

Provided she received an appropriate education. His concerns in this regard were growing. While Obi-Wan was no expert in early childhood development, he was well aware that human children did not normally start speaking and walking within a week of being born. He estimated that, at this rate, their daughter might be a young adult in-between two to three standard months on Mortis. How could it be ensured that she grew up well, sound and strong of body, mind, and spirit, in the less time than it took the Galactic Senate to pass even minor legislation?

This was not a subject Obi-Wan wanted to raise today, not when he and Anakin were still tiptoeing around each other, still unsure of how their little family—and it _was_ a family, Obi-Wan was not afraid to admit that to himself—would work.

Midday meal was hawk-bat eggs on toast and a spicy, herb-infused fruit juice. As always, the food just seemed to materialize at an appropriate hour. The mechanism for its preparation and delivery remained a mystery. Obi-Wan noticed, however, that it was the sort of meal he’d choose for himself, and not the Malastarian stoneware bowls Anakin preferred. This made him wonder…

In any case, Anakin had no comment and, as usual, allowed the baby to breastfeed while they ate. Occasionally, he would stroke her and murmur endearments. Obi-Wan liked how unselfconscious he was in the expression of these tender feelings for the child. He could learn from Anakin’s example.

They put the baby down for her afternoon nap and decided, without any actual discussion, to rest as well. Obi-Wan should have been exhausted after that sleepless night in the crystal cave, but he wasn’t. If anything, he felt…good.

Anakin was curled up on his side of the sleeping pallet, his back to Obi-Wan. He probably didn’t have anything in mind besides sleeping, but Obi-Wan had other ideas. Obi-Wan slid an arm around his waist and, with a soft kiss on his shoulder, urged him to roll over. He complied, and Obi-Wan climbed on top of him, skin to skin, their groins rubbing lightly together.

“What—?” Anakin began, surprised.

“Shhhhh. Don’t wake her,” Obi-Wan whispered.

“But—”

“Shhhhh.” Then Obi-Wan kissed him to forestall further resistance or protest.

Anakin surrendered, wrapping his limbs tightly around Obi-Wan. Although their penises became erect quickly, and the feel of these two firm lengths of silky flesh grinding against each other was lovely, their caresses were slow, unhurried. They were savoring the opportunity to discover each other anew.

Eventually, like a durasteel filing drawn to an electromagnet, Obi-Wan slid inside his partner’s wet, welcoming heat. Anakin drew his legs up higher around Obi-Wan’s waist to take him deeper, nuzzling impatiently, but Obi-Wan would not be rushed. For a long time, they barely moved at all, just an occasional, gentle thrust. Obi-Wan touched Anakin’s beautiful face, trying to memorize every transient detail, every flicker of emotion.

This wasn’t about reproductive duty or even about sexual release. This was simply about Obi-Wan and Anakin, about two beings seeking and finding new ways of fitting together.

Their pleasure built gradually until they were both shuddering, their bodies pleading for frenzied completion. They were biting their tongues so as not to cry out in passion. And with supreme mutual effort, their pace remained slow and deliberate, their lovemaking silent.

Finally, Anakin closed his eyes, arched his back, and climaxed. Warm fluid painted their bellies. With a near-inaudible sigh and one last, slow thrust as far in as he could go, Obi-Wan followed him. The orgasm was unspectacular but wonderfully sweet; it was like coming home.

The baby did not wake.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) By the way, many apologies for the username fluctuations. Something different for the New Year seemed called for, and I’ve now settled on a name that means…well, if you don’t know what it means already and want to, Google it. Or check out my new icon. ;-)


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan is adjusting happily to life with his little family. 
> 
> Then Anakin decides their daughter might like to try flying. Oh dear…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like things are going to start getting interesting again.

Anakin had always been the one certain of his great destiny.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, knew he was not essential to the galaxy’s peace and prosperity.

He was merely certain of his duty, whether that be negotiating ceasefires on Outer Rim planets or leading clone troops into battle to defend hyperspace lanes. His was a life of service to the will of the Force. Personal preference never entered into consideration.

If truth be told, however, Obi-Wan did not enjoy the life he had been living. Adventure, intrigue, exotic locations, the adrenaline rush of life-or-death combat—none of these held the slightest intrinsic appeal. He was, in his heart of hearts, a simple man. Obi-Wan was most at ease in the quiet, sunlit gardens of the Jedi Temple, happiest in a classroom full of eager younglings.

Of course, by the grace and wisdom of his former Master Qui-Gon Jinn, he was doing his duty to the Force even now. But for the first time in a very long time, his foremost duty—his family—had become his foremost pleasure.

Was it possible to overdose on pure joy? The past week had been a natural experiment testing that question.

They spent every moment of every day together. Each second lasted an eternity, yet no amount of time with Anakin and their child would _ever_ be enough for Obi-Wan.

She was growing exactly as fast as Obi-Wan had anticipated. Every sentence she uttered seemed to feature a new word; every step she took was more surefooted; and every smile was toothier. She had also acquired her mother’s inexplicable aversion to using the refresher for anything other than bathing. (Obi-Wan wondered if Anakin’s early refusal to change the baby’s diapers had something to do with that…)

Breathing, eating, and excreting were all natural parts of what it meant to be a living creature. Obi-Wan didn’t approve of the notion of simply “opting out” of one of them for the sake of convenience, but as long as neither suffered any apparent ill effects, he did not make a fuss.

Otherwise, there were no chores because the planet gave them everything they needed.

Meals were provided, and gradually they were introducing the baby to solid food.

The bassinet was replaced by a child-sized sleeping pallet.

Anakin sang songs of the desert that he’d learned from his mother. Obi-Wan told enthralling stories, fact masquerading as fiction.

Toy building blocks became everyone’s favorite indoor pastime.

They explored the magnificent and ever-changing landscapes of Mortis. They climbed mountains, ran through grassy fields, swam in azure lakes, and marveled at glowing crystal caves.

Sometimes, they were caught in the rain. Other times, they watched the storm from the safety of their room.

And each night, after the baby was put to bed, Anakin and Obi-Wan wrapped their arms around each other and took pleasure, such beautiful, languid pleasure, in the union of their bodies.

Had it not been for Anakin’s restless pursuit of novelty, it was _just_ possible that the easy terms of the first week would have continued. Well, maybe for one more week. Maximum.

The bright morning of their eighth day reunited found the trio at the highest balcony atop the highest tower of the Father’s monastery. Their daughter had climbed up onto Anakin’s back, the better to examine the vertiginous drop below. She oohed and aahhed delightedly at the unparalleled vista. She was entirely without fear.

Anakin had that contemplative look on his face that Obi-Wan knew from far too many years of closely-averted disasters.

“Erm, Anakin…” he began nervously.

Anakin paid him no mind. “Would you like to try flying, little one?” he asked.

“Fu-rye…?” the child repeated the novel word, diction hesitant.  

Anakin took that as an assent and jumped over the balcony, their child still on his back.

Obi-Wan swore. Thankfully, there was no one left to hear the foul language that his loss of control had engendered. Then, still cursing inwardly, he leapt after Anakin’s fast-diminishing, freefalling form.

By the time Obi-Wan had used the Force to soften his landing at the bottom of the gorge several kilometers below where they had been standing only moments earlier, Anakin and the child were already there. He was whooping and twirling her about, and she was shrieking with exhilarated laughter.

“Mama, again! Again, again, _again_!” she cried.

Obi-Wan grabbed Anakin’s shoulder and stopped his happy dance in its tracks. “Are you insane?!” he hissed. “What if you had dropped her?!”

“Oh, relax. I wasn’t going to drop her.” Anakin couldn’t repress a grin. He was bouncing from foot to foot. “I think she takes after me, Master,” he boasted. “We’ll have to teach her to fly when she’s older.”

“Right, because piloting swoop bikes and starfighters is _exactly_ what she’s going to need on Mortis!” Obi-Wan shouted. He was _very_ upset.

“Better than all the books you’re undoubtedly intending to dump on her! Not that I’ve seen any libraries lately, have you?!” Anakin snapped, his ire rising to match Obi-Wan’s head-to-head.

“Mama? Fly again?” the child at their feet requested plaintively. She tugged on the hem of Anakin’s tunic. Her parents ignored her.

Anakin valued practical experience and had always believed that learning by doing was best. As a Padawan new to the Temple, he had chafed at the mandatory curriculum of literature and science, pure mathematics and history, philosophy and fine art. Obi-Wan, by contrast, believed that these things were a necessary prerequisite of true wisdom. A heated argument about the shape of their child’s education was therefore inevitable and, at worst, irreconcilable.

Obi-Wan just hadn’t expected to have it at the bottom of a rocky gorge.

And so, it was only after many pointless minutes of furious back-and-forthing that either of them noticed that their daughter had disappeared.

 

TO BE CONTINUED  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Anakin’s singing and Obi-Wan’s storytelling are hidden talents described in Alan Dean Foster’s _The Approaching Storm_ , one of my favorite of the prequel tie-in novels.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Searching for a lost child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter has a lot of important stuff for the story as a whole seeded into it…

Anakin was panicking.

“Oh Gods, she’s scared, so scared, oh Gods, _no_ , scared and alone, and _why can’t I feel where she is_ —?!” he wailed.

Tears were streaming freely down Anakin’s face; he couldn’t possibly see where he was going. Yet Obi-Wan was struggling to keep up as Anakin raced about in random directions, desperately trying to get a fix on the child’s whereabouts through the Force.

“Wait! Anakin—!” Obi-Wan shouted. To no avail. He was ignored.

Anakin’s misery was like a sun going nova, overwhelming Obi-Wan’s own Force perception. Obi-Wan could feel nothing of their daughter’s well-being or emotional state, never mind her location. Under such conditions, with Anakin taking leave of his better senses, it was worse than being Force-blind.

Moreover, Obi-Wan admitted to himself, his own guilt wasn’t helping matters any. He shouldn’t have lost his temper like that. If he hadn’t lost his temper, he wouldn’t have provoked Anakin with what he knew would become a heated argument about the child’s educational future. And if he hadn’t started that argument, they wouldn’t have lost track of her in the first place.

He’d wanted Anakin to be angry too. It was petty, vindictive, and wholly unbecoming. Sickened and slightly lightheaded with shame, Obi-Wan wondered how many other times in the past he’d inadvertently let others bear the brunt of his negative emotions…

Some distance ahead of him, Anakin lost his footing on a bit of uneven ground and, with a despairing grunt, went down hard onto his hands and knees.

Obi-Wan rushed forward to crouch beside Anakin. “Calm yourself. Take a deep breath,” he said in his best Master-to-Padawan voice, running a soothing hand from the top of Anakin’s head to the top of his spine. “You are not going to help her in this state.”

Anakin took a deep, shuddery breath. His body continued to shake with quiet sobs, and he scrubbed his face with one hand. “It’s my fault, Master. I should have—”

“No,” Obi-Wan interrupted firmly. “Assigning blame is a pointless exercise.” He helped Anakin back onto his feet and brushed off the bits of debris that clung to his clothing. “Now, she can’t have gone far. You know the standard procedure for search and rescue. We grid it out first. We do this systematically.”

Anakin merely sniffled, but Obi-Wan knew agreement when he heard it.

“We’ll find her. I promise,” Obi-Wan said.

Anakin managed a watery smile.

They did as Obi-Wan suggested and began a systematic search. The jagged, uneven terrain made a simple grid challenging, but keeping to it as best they could meant that they were confident at least of having cleared specific areas as they swept ever-widening circles out from their starting point.

Yet as Mortis’s day flipped over into night, they found nothing. Over five square kilometers, Obi-Wan estimated, and not a single sign of the child. No evidence of foul play. It should not have been possible.

Now a thunderstorm was approaching fast, and they risked electrocution if they stayed outside much longer. Weary and heartsore, the two men returned to the place they’d been arguing for one final search, one last-ditch effort before admitting—temporarily—their failure.

And that was where Obi-Wan found her.

No, none of this should have been remotely possible. Yet there she was, curled up in a fetal position behind a boulder, weeping silently and rocking back and forth in abject fear. Her soft hair was tangled; her white dress was stained and torn. She refused to move even when she saw Obi-Wan, so he lifted her up bodily into his arms.

Then Anakin was there too, faster than lightspeed, and he wrapped his arms fiercely around the both of them. They all cried together.

“Where _were_ you?!” Anakin asked. “We were so worried!!”

“Said be good. Be very quiet. Hide. Don’t tell! Nobody see. I was good!!” the child blubbered into Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“ _Who_ said?!” The register Anakin’s voice had lowered ominously.

But the child simply shook her head and wept harder, and they had no more information from her.

Even after they were safely out of the storm and back in their room at the Father’s monastery, she was virtually inconsolable. Although she was physically unhurt, and dirt was nothing a nice warm bath couldn’t fix, Obi-Wan had never felt so impotent. Only by allowing her to nurse at his breast was Anakin finally able to restore the child to some measure of calm. She continued to suckle long after his milk ran dry, and the hand she placed over his heart was clenched, digging into his flesh like a little claw.

Obi-Wan noticed that her fingernails had drawn blood.

Because she refused to be parted from her mother, they went to bed with the child nestled between them. Both she and Anakin fell asleep quickly, justifiably exhausted by their ordeal. The child clung to Anakin, and Anakin had his body wrapped around her protectively. Occasionally, Obi-Wan reached out to caress one or the other, but he did so automatically—his thoughts were elsewhere.

In spite of his own exhaustion, Obi-Wan lay awake long into the night. With a terrible sense of foreboding, he had come to recognize one important thing: The child had learned what it meant to be afraid.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The child is scared of being alone. Anakin thinks he has a solution to the problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the lighter side…

It had become depressingly apparent that their daughter’s temporary disappearance was a mystery which would not be readily solved.

When Obi-Wan returned to the spot he had found her early the next morning for a follow-up inspection, all he saw was a bare patch of ground behind a boulder. The rain had washed away any trace of incriminating evidence during the night—presuming there was even something to be found there in the first place.

And unfortunately, the spiritual consequences of the disappearance were going to take much more than a rainstorm to expunge.

As Obi-Wan had guessed, the child had indeed learned what it meant to be afraid. Specifically, she was terrified of being alone. While the presence of one parent was enough to keep her calm and happy, the barest prospect of brief separation from both Anakin and Obi-Wan at the same time was sufficient to spark panic and wild, weeping terror. Whatever had happened to her while she was missing was so traumatic, in fact, that she seemed to have blocked out all memory of it. Of the hours between “Mama’s flying” and finding her, she claimed to remember nothing.

Anakin was hardly in a better state of mind than the child, truth be told. He barely took his eyes off of her, enhanced Jedi senses heightened to a state of constant vigilance that Obi-Wan knew, over the long term, would not be sustainable.

Anakin was also well aware of the problem and informed Obi-Wan that he had hit upon a brilliant solution. For a bright, shining moment, Obi-Wan actually believed that Anakin had decided to invest himself in the hard work of teaching their daughter how to cope with loneliness. But no, of course not. That wasn’t Anakin Skywalker’s style. Instead, Anakin had decided that the child needed a friend.

Obi-Wan was torn between amusement and annoyance. Sentient life was in very short supply on Mortis. It wasn’t like they could put out a HoloNet advert, “Friend Wanted, Species No Object!”

“A friend will be good for her,” Anakin offered.

“Fur-rend…?” the child repeated slowly, as if tasting the new word on her tongue.

“And how precisely would you know? You don’t have any friends. Well, except for me and Threepio—and you had to _build_ him!” Obi-Wan scoffed.

C-3PO. Now that was one worryguts conversationalist Obi-Wan emphatically did not miss having around on Mortis. But he should have known. Because _of course_ Anakin Skywalker’s daughter’s first ever friend would be a droid.

“You want to give our daughter a droid,” Obi-Wan said. It wasn’t a question.

“I don’t see how that’s a problem,” Anakin replied stubbornly. “It’ll be an extra set of eyes on her, too.”

Okay, granted, it was hard to argue with that.

Or it would be—assuming Anakin managed to get the droid in question up and running.

Mortis wasn’t exactly long on droids either, but it turned out that Anakin already happened to have just the thing stowed away safely in the bowels of their shuttle’s cargo hold.

(Obi-Wan took one peek into said cargo hold while Anakin’s back was turned. Big mistake. It was crammed top to bottom with so much of Anakin’s…he shuddered with disgust… _junk_ …it was a wonder they the shuttle had ever been able to break atmosphere, let alone reach hyperspeed.)

Getting to the shuttle had proven to be a pleasant family excursion, however, and they’d made it there in record time. Maybe the planet liked the idea of their daughter having a droid friend as well.

Or not.

Obi-Wan covered her ears tightly while yet another string of expletives exploded from the makeshift workspace Anakin had set up for himself in the shuttle co-pilot’s seating area. This time it was something about a Hutt’s unmentionables.

“Is something the matter?” Obi-Wan asked the obvious question when Anakin had run out of breath for cursing.

“I don’t get it!” Anakin huffed in frustration at the inert machine in his lap. “Everything looks to be in perfect working order, but the damned thing refuses to power up!”

The “damned thing” in question was a military-grade prototype that Anakin had acquired—somehow—for field-testing. Obi-Wan had never seen anything quite like it. A black sphere with a single red eye ( _not_ a set!) about the circumference of a human head, it looked superficially like an oversized remote of the sort Jedi younglings used to practice their lightsaber technique. But Anakin had informed him that it was in fact a fully-fledged droid with a flexible personality matrix and range of pre-installed all-purpose components which included: two manipulator arms, a holographic recorder/projector unit, a diamond-tipped, durasteel circular cutting saw, a plasma welder, and an arc emitter for defense. Like the R2 series of astromech droids, it was highly customizable. Also like the R2s, it communicated exclusively in binary.

(“Perfect opportunity for her to learn a second language,” Anakin had said.)

“Perhaps the fault is not with you,” Obi-Wan suggested. “Our technology only seems to work here some of the time.”

That was certainly the case. Their comlink units had stopped functioning on the very first day. Lightsabers were extremely unreliable around Force Wielders. And the shuttle itself was looking troublingly worse for wear. Would it even fly when they needed it?

On the other (literal) hand, Anakin’s prosthetic arm was the same as always, and that all-in-one birthing module had functioned as impressively as claimed by the many commercials for similar units Obi-Wan had seen over the years whenever they took civilian transport.

“Hmm…” Obi-Wan peered over Anakin’s shoulder to inspect the droid. He reached for a heretofore unnoticed switch on the underside. “What about …?”

“ _No, don’t touch that_ —!” Anakin shouted.

Bolts of static electricity burst from the droid and sizzled along the length of Anakin’s prosthetic arm. Anakin’s voice rose two octaves in response as he tried to contain the damage. By the time it was over, the droid was a smoking husk, and every single hair on Anakin’s head was sticking straight out.

“Mama, you look funny!” the child hooted.

Obi-Wan kept his expression scrupulously blank.

Shortly thereafter, Anakin admitted defeat.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) You know, if they weren’t Jedi (non-attachment!), they’d just get their child a teddy bear or a security blanket or something…
> 
> (2) The “You don’t have any friends except Threepio” comment is adapted from James Luceno’s _Labyrinth of Evil_.
> 
> (3) The prototype spherical droid is supposed to be a relatively benign version of the interrogator droid that shows up with Darth Vader when he tortures Leia in the first movie. It seems totally plausible that Anakin, and then Vader, would take an interest in field-testing and developing these things.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The child has taken Anakin’s notion that what she needs are “friends” to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2017, everyone!

The only real damage done by the destruction of the prototype droid was to Anakin’s dignity.

In the days which followed, he continued to maintain that what their daughter needed was a friend. And the best method for accomplishing that, he insisted, would be for him to build her one. Unfortunately, further attempts in this vein, using yet more equipment and spare parts Anakin had been hoarding in their shuttle, met with precisely as much success as the first attempt.

Meaning that they weren’t successful at all. Obi-Wan was convinced that the planet was somehow to blame. But at least Anakin’s newest obsession resulted in a much cleaner, more organized—and substantially lighter—cargo hold.

Obi-Wan, conversely, did not believe that the problems of the psyche were meant to be solved by technology. Fears must be confronted, not displaced, and even with the guidance of professional Mind Healers, there were no shortcuts to a balanced mind. Balance was a labor of years, if not an entire lifetime.

And at the rate the child was growing, years were precisely what they were not going to have. Indeed, she gave a whole new meaning to that perennial parents’ lament: Their daughter was quite literally getting bigger every day.

She was also more and more beautiful every day. Their adorable baby had become an equally adorable little girl, round-cheeked and fair. Anakin took great pleasure in brushing and intricately braiding her hair, and she loved the attention, but she was otherwise uninterested in fashion, going barefoot and wearing only simple linen dresses even during long outdoor excursions.  

Her exuberance and zest for life, though, were unmatched, and she combined them with unusual perspicacity. So it probably shouldn’t have come as such a surprise when the child, who had spent days listening to her mother expound on the importance of having “friends,” started taking matters into her own hands.

“I made a friend today,” the child announced over their evening meal.

“Oh? You did?” Anakin asked, humoring her.

“That’s right.” The child nodded sagely over her bowl of nerf-and-vegetable stew. “He was running away from home because he loves flying but his uncle won’t let him. What’s an ‘uncle,’ Papa?”

He and Anakin had quickly become accustomed to the child’s rapid rate of maturation, which included, among many other things, a mysterious access to knowledge she shouldn’t have. Anakin had taken to telling her, “Ask Papa,” whenever he was unable, or just feeling too lazy, to definitively answer her precocious questions—which was often—and so she now defaulted to asking Obi-Wan for clarification on the meanings of words and other concepts.

“An uncle is what a child would call her parent’s brother,” Obi-Wan said.

“Do I have any uncles?”

“No. Neither I nor your—” Obi-Wan began.

“I have a stepbrother named Owen Lars,” Anakin interjected. “He could be considered your uncle.”

The child digested this information in silence for a moment. Then she continued, “Anyway, he changed his mind. He says his uncle needs him on the farm and would be upset if he left.”

“Anything else?” Obi-Wan encouraged gently.

“Nope. But I’ll see him again tomorrow,” the child said.

Anakin shrugged. Obi-Wan, noting the shrug, sighed softly and nodded his agreement. This new development seemed harmless enough; an overactive imagination was hardly the end of the world when it eased her anxieties about spending time alone. And besides, it was nice to know that this new being populating her fantasies had ultimately decided to put family duty over his own selfish desire.

***

Their daughter had more stories about new “friends” to share in the days which followed.

“He says his Mama is the princess of a vanished world.”

Hmm. The last one hadn’t had parents and lived on a farm, so this boy with royal blood must be a new one. Had Anakin been telling her about his favorite Queen of Naboo?

“I told him that’s very im-purr-es-seeve,” she stumbled over the word, “but there’s no way _his_ Mama is as pretty as _my_ Mama.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “I see. And what else did you learn about this boy?”

“He says he’s named after the greatest Jedi who ever lived. What’s a ‘Jedi,’ Papa?”

Anakin and Obi-Wan exchanged looks over their daughter’s head. _Yoda?!_ Anakin mouthed, eyes sparkling with mirth. The mere thought of naming your child after the diminutive, green, and pointy-eared Jedi Grand Master! But Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed with concern. They’d been so very careful not to tell her about the Jedi and other shadows of their past.

“And what was his name?” Anakin asked, unable to conceal a grin.

“He wouldn’t tell. He says he doesn’t want me to feel bad that I don’t have one,” she replied, pouting. She had completely forgotten her earlier question about Jedi. “I told him I didn’t care, but he _still_ wouldn’t tell!”

Hmm, indeed. It seemed she had acquired her father’s penchant for compelling storytelling. If Obi-Wan hadn’t already known that friends for the child were in very short supply on Mortis, he might have believed the children she was describing were real…

Maybe.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Two cameos. Obvious, I hope. ;-)


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her parents discover that _some_ of the child’s friends aren’t entirely imaginary…

“I don’t think she likes her Papa very much.”

“And why is that?” Anakin asked.

The child loved telling them stories about her imaginary friends. Although the source of these friends remained an abiding mystery, discussion of their lives and antics had quickly become an important source of practical learning for her. It had also become a sort of mealtime ritual for their little family.

“She says her Papa consoled another woman with his penis, and that made him staying married to her Mama awkward.”

Anakin burst out in raucous laughter.

Obi-Wan choked. An entire spoonful of fresh cheese had gone down in the direction of his lungs instead of his stomach.

“Papa, are you okay?” the child asked, concerned, as Obi-Wan desperately tried to clear his throat and Anakin, predictably unhelpful, merely continued to chortle.

Obi-Wan made a “don’t mind me” gesture and hurriedly gulped down the rest of his cup of herbal tea.

The child took his reassurance at face value and turned to Anakin. “Are you married?” she asked.

Thank the Force that her inevitable question wasn’t about what consoling someone with one’s penis entailed. She’s still far too young for those sorts of conversations, Obi-Wan thought to himself. He was so busy feeling relieved, in fact, that it took him a moment to notice Anakin’s peculiar reaction.

Anakin had gone pale. “Umm, well, actually—” he sputtered.

“No, we’re not married,” Obi-Wan interrupted. He shot Anakin a curious sideways glance, but Anakin refused to meet his eyes.

“Oh.” The child’s expression became thoughtful and grave.

“You don’t need to be married to have children,” he continued.

“Oh.”

A long silence.

Anakin cleared his throat and said, in a transparent bid to change the subject, “So, for today, I thought we’d—”

But the child wasn’t finished. “You’d never do anything to hurt Mama, would you, Papa?” she asked Obi-Wan.

“I would never do anything to hurt your Mama,” he promised. Nor, he added inwardly, am I planning on consoling a woman with my penis! Stars knew he and Anakin hadn’t even “consoled” each other for quite awhile, not since before the day their daughter had disappeared in the gorge…

Anakin looked distinctly unhappy.

If Obi-Wan had possessed the benefit of hindsight, this would have worried him. Instead, he found himself imagining what it would be like to be married to Anakin. It wasn’t, he was surprised to realize, at all an unpleasant state of affairs to contemplate.

***

“Hold still!” Anakin commanded.

Obi-Wan froze, spoon halfway between his bowl and his mouth.

Faster than a striking Sith, Anakin leaned forward and yanked a hair out of the tender flesh of Obi-Wan’s left temple.

“Ouch— Hey—!” Obi-Wan protested.

The child giggled.

Anakin held up the hair he’d pulled for inspection. It was gray. “Look who’s getting old, old man!” he crowed.

“It happens to the best of us, so I would appreciate you not hastening my hair loss any further,” Obi-Wan grumbled.

“Oh, _okay_ …” Anakin said, his tone falsely apologetic. He winked at the child.

She giggled again.

Obi-Wan pretended not to notice. “Eat up, little one,” he instructed the child. “It’s nearly time for bed.”

On Anakin’s suggestion, they had passed a lovely morning swimming in a nearby mountain stream and exploring the plant life growing along the riverbed. In the afternoon, while Anakin napped, Obi-Wan had continued teaching their daughter reading and mathematics. He had been doing this every day, and she mastered new learning so rapidly that it was as if she was devouring the contents of a dozen datapads every night while she slept.

The child, however, seemed less interested in her food at present than in telling another story about her imaginary friends.

“I made a new friend today,” she announced.

“Did you?” Obi-Wan smiled.

“Yes! She’s amazing—and she’s even better at flying than Mama!” the child enthused.

“Nobody’s better at flying than I am,” Anakin scoffed.

“But she is!” the child countered. “She has real wings and everything! And she says she’ll give me a ride on her back if I’m good.”

Obi-Wan’s brow lifted. He had forbade skydiving since that last unfortunate incident. Both Anakin and the child had protested loudly, but they’d given in eventually, and he’d thought the matter closed. Was this some sort of clever bid to play on her mother’s jealous streak?

“I agree that your new friend sounds amazing,” Obi-Wan said, trying to change the subject. They seemed to be doing that a lot lately. “It’s a shame we’re not able to meet her.”

“Oh, but you can! She says she’ll stop by for a visit tonight.”

Anakin blinked. “She said—?”

“Good evening.”

Both Obi-Wan and Anakin leapt to their feet, automatically assuming a defensive wall between this unknown interloper and the child.

The Daughter was standing in their doorway.

“I am here at the behest of my father,” she began without preamble. “He wishes to see the child.”

Well, this development wasn’t exactly unexpected. Obi-Wan relaxed his guard (somewhat) and noted Anakin doing the same. “Of course,” he said agreeably. “We shall go immediatel—”

“No. She goes _alone_.”

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) A third cameo. Perhaps slightly less recognizable? If you’re stumped, click [here](http://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Wishful-Drinking/Carrie-Fisher/9781439153710).


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the child takes lessons from the Father, Anakin and Obi-Wan receive unpleasant news from the Daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, a chapter for those of you who have been growing a list of questions regarding this story’s ongoing mysteries…

“ _Over my dead body_!” Anakin snarled.

He would have launched himself in righteous fury at the Daughter had Obi-Wan not restrained him.

“Is this really the sort of example you want to set for our child?” Obi-Wan whispered urgently into his ear.

It wasn’t, of course. With palpable reluctance, Anakin stopped struggling. The red wash of anger coloring the Force cleared. Obi-Wan gave Anakin one final warning squeeze—Anakin’s dead body was probably an all-too-easy state of affairs for Force Wielders to arrange—and released him.  

“She is to be instructed in the ways of the Force,” the Daughter said coolly, ignoring Anakin’s interruption.

“And we’re not qualified to do that?” Anakin scoffed.

“You are not. If she is to fulfill her destiny on Mortis, she must take lessons from the Father.”

“The logic of that reasoning seems entirely acceptable,” Obi-Wan said. It was, indeed, hard not to concede. “However, we do not understand why we cannot be in attendance. We would not divulge or otherwise abuse the Father’s knowledge.”

The Daughter shook her head, the long green hair which seemed to defy gravity undulating in gentle waves all around her. “Even I am not privy to these secrets. No, she must go alone,” she reiterated.

“As parents, we have legitimate concerns about her safety which ought to be addressed beforehand,” Anakin said flatly.

“She is under my father’s protection. No harm will come to her.” The Daughter actually looked mildly offended.

“Please do not misunderstand,” Obi-Wan entreated. “After an…accident some weeks ago, she has become afraid of being on her own. Any further imposition of solitude could add to this prior trauma.”

“That was a harm she inflicted upon herself. Surely you understand why training is therefore necessary,” the Daughter said.

Anakin and Obi-Wan glanced at each other. Until now, they had resigned themselves to accepting the conclusion that the child’s disappearance was yet another of Mortis’s abiding mysteries. But if indeed she had been the cause of her own disappearance, it was by no use of the Force with which they were familiar. Perhaps she was more in immediate need of the Father’s training than they had previously supposed…

“But if that is your concern, I will accompany her to and from lessons myself.” The Daughter’s tone had gentled, and she looked at the child with unmistakable fondness.

“I think—” Obi-Wan began.

“It’s okay. I’ll go.”

The child had slipped out from behind her parents. Now, she reached out to take the Daughter’s hand into her own. And with a tentative smile and nod to her parents, they left together.

***

She spent several hours with the Father every evening from then on. For all intents and purposes, the content of these lessons remained a mystery to Obi-Wan and Anakin, but it was all too easy for them to notice the dramatic change in the child’s demeanor.

This was most noticeable during mealtimes. Where once their daughter would have been bubbling with happy chatter about her imaginary friends, she had become pensive, quiet. She would eat dutifully, but that was all.

Eventually, it seemed, Anakin had decided he’d had enough of the oppressive silence. “What have all of your friends been up to lately?” he asked.

“Yes, indeed,” Obi-Wan encouraged. “We haven’t had any updates in several days.”

The edges of the child’s mouth sank downward. She looked sad. “The Father says I’m not to speak to them anymore.”

She would offer no further clarification, in spite of her parents’ repeated urging.

This concerned Obi-Wan deeply. The child had not overcome the source of her fear, and the main strategy she’d developed for coping with that fear, her imaginary friends, had been taken away. It meant that he and Anakin continued to be of paramount importance in the life of their child, two imperfect, fallible human bulwarks against a black hole of bottomless loneliness. To have left her alone on Mortis— Well, it was fortunate that they had both elected to remain!

Even with her parents nearby, Obi-Wan knew, she still felt afraid on occasion. As she grew older, though, she was showing it less. Instead of crying or releasing the feelings into the Force, she was bottling them up deep inside. She’d even started refusing the Daughter’s companionship during her daily visits to the Father. (The Daughter did take her flying regularly, for what that was worth.) While outwardly she seemed less childish, Obi-Wan was not gullible enough mistake despondency for maturity.

If only someone would explain why imaginary friends were such a problem; if only the Father’s lessons weren’t such a big secret; and if only they could make the child carefree and _happy_ again!

“You know you can always talk to us about anything that troubles you, okay?” Obi-Wan reminded her.

“That’s right!” Anakin chimed in. He tugged at one of the braids he had put in her hair and tickled the tip of her nose with the lose spray of hair on the end.

The child just sighed.

“Good evening.” The Daughter was standing in their open doorway as per usual.

 _Not_ as per usual, however, was the way she did not leave after the child had departed for her lessons with the Father. Instead, she lingered. It was clear that she wanted something from them.

“Is there something we can do for you?” Obi-Wan asked at last.

The Daughter fell to her knees before Anakin and Obi-Wan. Then she placed her forehead and the palms of her hands against the floor. It was an attitude of ritual penitence. “Forgive me,” she said.

“W-what in the—” Anakin stuttered, expressing sufficient surprise for the both of them.

The Daughter sat up but remained on her knees, eyes downcast and hands folded into her lap, as she spoke: “Father forbids me from interfering. But he should _never_ have allowed it! Know that if you stay here on Mortis, you will be dead within the year.”

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is everything about to change for Mortis’s newest little family?

Sickening. Obi-Wan felt his stomach drop in a dizzy spiral down to his feet.

Really, he thought, they should have known from the start. They had only themselves to blame. How could they have dreamed they were exempt from what had been right in front of them the whole time? For over a month now, they had watched their child grow— _age_ —with unnatural speed and—

_Would she die within the year as well?_

Anakin had already reached his own conclusion. “My baby… What have I done…?!” he moaned, guttural and dark with despair. He turned away and buried his head into his hands.

Obi-Wan’s diplomatic training took over. Even as everything he ever believed he’d understood about the world shattered into sharp, glistening shards all around him, words came readily to his lips. Calm, coherent ones. “And the child? Does she also face imminent death?”

“No. The child was conceived and delivered on Mortis. The planet will sustain her,” the Daughter replied.

Thank goodness for this, at least.

“I see,” Obi-Wan said. “And is there nothing we can do to forestall our fate?”

“Leave. Leave as you should have done as soon as the child was born. You do not belong here. This is not your temporal world.” The Daughter’s expression was hard.

And so, it was that simple. Leave the planet behind, or reckon the remainder of their lives in mere months. Either way, they would be leaving their daughter, she who feared loneliness above all things, all alone.

The Daughter, knowing they had much to discuss, offered to look after the child for the night. Obi-Wan thanked her for her kindness…and for telling them the truth. Unpleasant truths are never easy to tell, and she had defied her Father to do it. For that, he told her, he was sincerely grateful.

Obi-Wan bowed deeply. Anakin just about managed a jerky nod of acknowledgment.

The Daughter left.

There was a mirror in the refresher. With an amount of haste which, in another person, in other circumstances, he might have considered unseemly, Obi-Wan went to stand before it.

He regarded his reflection, and for the first time in a very long time, he truly saw himself. The strand of gray hair Anakin had pulled from his temple was nothing. He was more gray than auburn now, and the skin of his face looked looser, more papery. Obi-Wan Kenobi had reached the cusp of old age.

It was…strange. He’d never entertained delusions of immortality, but he had never before felt quite so _mortal_.

Obi-Wan sank deep into the Force, feeling its currents, inviting its movement through him, guiding him. Seconds passed like eternity. As he came gradually out of his trance, he knew one thing for certain: There were no easy answers, but the choice was his to make.

So, he made it.

Behind him, Anakin was pacing like a caged nexu. He was busily working himself into a frightened, angry panic. “It’s not too late, Master, if you leave right now. You don’t have to die. Take the shuttle; you can still make it. I don’t want—”

“Anakin.”

Anakin’s urgent stream of consciousness cut off abruptly at the sound of his name. He skidded to a halt.

“I’m not leaving,” Obi-Wan said to his reflection.

“B-but, Master—”

“ _No_.” The face in the mirror was calm and resolute; its eyes were bright and clear.

Obi-Wan turned to place a steadying hand on Anakin’s shoulder. Anakin was young, still, young and confused and vulnerable. Obi-Wan took a deep breath to gather his thoughts. “No one lives forever, Anakin, and few get to choose the time, place, or circumstance of their deaths. It will be a privilege.”

“But, _Master_ —” Anakin said again, stricken.

“No buts. When I die, you will teach our child to rejoice in my passing. And when you die, she will have learned how to rejoice in yours. She will outlive us; she will have to become strong enough to be on her own. This is natural order of things, Anakin, and it’s our best hope for her future.”

This time, Anakin didn’t attempt to argue. “I just— I don’t want to lose you…” he said softly.

“And I wouldn’t want to outlive you because then _I’d_ be the one losing _you_ ,” Obi-Wan said.

Ah, what a conundrum! One of them wasn’t going to get what he wanted. Unless, maybe…

He’d asked for nothing in his life. Duty had always come first, second, and last. Anakin, the child, the calm, quiet simplicity of their little family—all of it had been an unsought after blessing. Memories of the child’s many stories of her friends came to him in a rush. He could conceive of only one other thing that would further increase the joy and pleasure of what the three of them had already shared.

Obi-Wan knelt at Anakin’s feet and took Anakin’s hands into his own. Tenderly, he pressed his lips to them.  

His brother, his lover, the mother of his child. No turning back.

“I-I own nothing but myself, and that is already yours. But I would ask— It would be an honor— For whatever amount of time I have left…” Obi-Wan closed his eyes and laid two more ardent kisses on Anakin’s hands. “Anakin, would you marry me?”

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And you thought the previous chapter was shocking?! X-D


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carpe diem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has a sex scene. (As if anyone still needs the ~~encouragement~~ warning?)

“M-marry y-you…?! But, but I—”

Anakin’s eyes had gone wide with disbelief. It was possible he had never looked more stunned.

“W-we _can’t_ —” he stuttered.

Anakin was inclined to refuse, that was clear, but Obi-Wan was beyond caring. Nor did he care for Anakin’s reasons when the remainder of their lives was to be reckoned in mere months. It was high time that Obi-Wan start living each day like it would be his last, and with so few of those days left to him, he could afford to be a bit selfish.

Besides, Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Jedi Order’s most skilled negotiator, had one sabacc card left to play—and he knew his opponent’s every weakness.

“Please,” Obi-Wan entreated, still down on his knees, gaze lifted up to Anakin’s. “I love you.”

And, simple as that, Anakin’s resistance crumbled.

Because Anakin loved him too.

Of course he did.

If someone had asked Obi-Wan when he knew he was in love with Anakin, he would not have been able to provide an answer. It just…grew. One day, Anakin was his Padawan; the next, he was his _everything_. Obi-Wan had never told a soul about this love, Anakin himself least of all, and it was a secret he would have taken to the funeral pyre. Yet, it endured. Deep in his heart, buried and hidden, like a sapling into a noble tree or a spark into a ravening flame.

That same fire burned within Anakin, and now his face was alight with its radiance. “You _love me_ …?!” he whispered.

Obi-Wan nodded in confirmation.

“Oh, Master—!” Anakin cried, overjoyed, as he swept Obi-Wan into his arms. “I never dreamed that you would, that you love— Oh Gods, yes, _yes_ —! I don’t care, I’ll do it, I will, I’ll marry you—!”

An affirmation. At last. Obi-Wan could have died right then and there from overwhelming happiness.

Somehow, they ended up in bed and undressed, clinging to each other tighter than mynocks to a starship hull. They moaned together as Obi-Wan devoured Anakin’s lips. No holding back. It had never been so desperate, so unabashedly carnal, between them before.

Their hands drifted lower. Both men were fully erect and already teetering on the precipice. Thick rivulets of hot, clear fluid were running down the insides of Anakin’s thighs. No, there would be no foreplay tonight.

“How do you want me, Master?” A louche question of the sort that characterized their first time. The only difference was that Obi-Wan wasn’t embarrassed by his desires anymore. Never again.

“Hands and knees,” he commanded, confident if slightly breathless. Also reminiscent of their first time. Anakin complied and favored him with a rakish grin over one shoulder.

“And you will stop calling me ‘Master,’ ” Obi-Wan continued, all business, “because my life mate should use my given name.” He pried Anakin’s sleek, muscular buttocks apart and positioned himself. The delicate, wrinkled opening fluttered with anticipation.

“Yes, Mast-I mean, Obi-Wa-AAAAAHHH!” Anakin’s panted words became a shriek of ecstasy as Obi-Wan penetrated him in a single, smooth thrust.

He set a fast, punishing rhythm to their lovemaking. Every stroke was searing and long, in deep until their groins met with an erotic slap of skin and then nearly all the way out, a looping twist of the hips in the middle both ways to stimulate Anakin’s prostate gland.

“Right there, oh Gods, yes, so good, you’re always _right there_ —!” Anakin keened.

Obi-Wan was incapable of coherent speech; he could only moan in wordless passion against the nape of Anakin’s neck, nostrils full of his unique, musky scent. They were lost in the wildness of their pleasure. The very room itself seemed to quake with the power of it. And Anakin was beautifully responsive beneath him, pushing back with enthusiasm into each thrust and tightening his inner muscles. The tip of Obi-Wan’s penis was dribbling constantly now; sweat streamed from his forehead. There was no stopping it. In just a few moments, he would come.

He pulled Anakin upright into his lap, wrapping one arm around his chest while the other made a grab for Anakin’s erection. One final push into that exquisite heat…ah, _yes_ — His orgasm slammed into him, and with a low wail, he began to ejaculate into his eager mate.

The sheer, animal intensity of it was exactly like their first time too.

But amazingly, Anakin still hovered on the edge. So Obi-Wan held him close and continued pounding into him, a series of shorter, shallower thrusts as he caressed his penis, sliding the soft foreskin up and down over the glans.

Then he pressed his mouth against Anakin’s ear and whispered in his most seductive tone, “I want to know what this feels like. You’re going to take me next time. You’ll be so deep inside, so hard I’ll remember it forever. Are you listening, Anakin, my beloved? Next time, take me…”

Anakin convulsed, his semen arcing upward like a fountain.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And on this day, there is a wedding.

There would be no officiant. Their child would be their only witness. They would not be espoused under any recognized legal authority of the Galactic Republic.

Nevertheless, in every way that truly mattered, Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi would be wed today.

Among the cosmopolitan Coruscanti, it was traditional for the being in receipt of a marriage proposal to choose how the couple would be married. Normally, the ceremony in question would be expected to align as closely as possible to the cultural practices of the being’s own homeworld. Anakin, however, was from the “backward” Outer Rim world of Tatooine, where human males did not marry each other (at least not openly). Obi-Wan, meanwhile, had been raised a Jedi, and marriage was forbidden by the Jedi Code; everything _he_ knew about weddings came from books and Holo media.

In the end, they decided an aboriginal human ceremony would be best, and the primary reason for opting for formality, instead of simply declaring themselves married, was to please the child. And she _was_ pleased, ebullient, in fact, and enchanted by the novelty. It roused her from the melancholy of recent days.

All three of them had special outfits for the occasion. Both Obi-Wan and Anakin wore identical linen robes, tied at the waist, with long hems that brushed the ground. They also wore soft, snowy-white cloaks, hoods drawn up tightly over their heads. Their dress was beautiful but simple, shapeless, and modest in order to reflect the humility with which they petitioned the Gods to join two lives into one.

The child, in contrast, wore a cupbearer’s shift, fine and intricately embroidered with gold and platinum thread. Anakin had piled her hair into an elegant braided twist, decorated with shimmersilk ribbons. She would be the ritual personification of the supposed supernatural presence presiding over their bond, bearing the cup that was to become a sacred domestic object for their newly-formed household.

They stood in the middle of Anakin’s favorite flowerbed. Their hoods hid their faces from the bright yellow sunlight of midday on Mortis. Then, as one, they faced each other and sank down onto their knees to kneel amid the flowers. The ceremony had begun.

First, their hands were tied, Obi-Wan’s right to Anakin’s left, in the seven-stranded marriage knot. The rope was crimson to symbolize the mingling of two bloodlines. They would remain bound to each other until past sundown; it was unlucky to untie the knot early.

Second came the marriage cup and the exchange of vows. The cup was an undecorated ceramic mug. Obi-Wan accepted it from the child and took a sip of the mixture of fresh milk (for sustenance), aromatic oil (for prosperity), and honeytree sap (for sweetness) it contained. He returned the cup to the child. He said the words: “With this cup, I thee wed.”

Anakin followed, also drinking from the cup and saying the words: “With this cup, I thee wed.”

Finally, Obi-Wan pushed Anakin’s hood down with his left hand, and Anakin did the same to Obi-Wan’s hood with his right, and they leaned forward together into a kiss to seal their marital vow. The taste of the milk was still potent on their lips. They had meant to keep it loving and chaste for the child’s benefit—she could be heard squealing delightedly just off to the side—but Anakin, ever mischievous, poked his tongue briefly into Obi-Wan’s mouth anyway.

And so, they had become life mates, united unto death. The Force was a clarion note of song in their ears.

Upon returning to their room in the Father’s monastery, they ate a celebratory meal of steaming hot wedding soup, chock full of thick noodles (wide and flat for health and a meter or more in length for longevity), the broth flavored with the remaining milk from the marriage cup. Anakin and the child competed to see who could slurp their noodles the loudest, and before long they were both splattered from head to toe with soup stains. Obi-Wan, for his part, did his best to keep clear…well, as much as the knot tying him to Anakin allowed. But he was in excellent humor. To everyone’s surprise, including his own, he merely laughed aloud when a wayward splatter hit him directly in the eye.

Eventually, their bellies were full to bursting, and the little family grew quiet and contemplative. The child seemed particularly fascinated by the marriage cup. “What will you do with it?” she asked, turning it around and around in her small hands.

“Why don’t you keep it safe for us?” Obi-Wan suggested. “Cups like these often become family heirlooms. And besides, no marriage can be annulled for as long as the cup is intact.” He decided it wasn’t worth mentioning how couples finalizing a divorce—and over half of marriages on Coruscant ended with divorce—would smash their cup into dust.

“Okay!” She smiled and slipped the cup into a pocket of her shift.

Then, it was time for the child’s lessons with the Father. No day off for her parents’ wedding. She took her leave.

And they were alone. The sun had already set hours ago, and it would be several hours more before the child returned.

“Well, that’s that then,” Anakin said. And with a twist of his arm and a single, skillful tug, the marriage knot came free.

“Indeed,” Obi-Wan agreed, shaking his own arm to get the circulation going again.

Now, like newlyweds the galaxy over, they would consummate their marriage. Obi-Wan knew Anakin remembered what he’d demanded in the heat of the moment last night.

He couldn’t wait.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) None of the wedding rituals and practices described in this chapter are meant to bear any particular resemblance to any already-existing cultures of which I am aware. Just Yours Truly being creative.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding night. Baths first. (This _is_ Obi-Wan, after all!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I’m gonna apologize in advance…

All day, Obi-Wan had been at some dazed, remote distance from himself. To be honest, he’d just been going through the motions of the wedding ceremony. None of it had seemed real.

But now, reality rushed back in, and nothing had ever been sweeter. His fondest wish had been granted; his most secret, treasured dream had come true.

He was married. Married. _Married!_ To Anakin, no less.

Anakin, who had once been Padawan learner and his brother in arms, who had become the mother of his child and his chosen life mate. Anakin, whose mouth was curling upwards into a lazy, seductive smile containing all the promise—and peril—in the world. Anakin…

…who honey-colored locks of hair were encrusted with dried soup.

“’Fresher,” Obi-Wan said flatly.

Anakin shrugged and complied without comment, favoring Obi-Wan as he did so with a playful sashay of his hips visible even through the voluminous wedding robe. A spear of heat drove straight into Obi-Wan’s loins.

Obi-Wan double-checked their sleeping pallet. Yes, fresh and clean. It would be ready and waiting for them.

By the time he joined Anakin in the refresher, Anakin was unclothed and about to climb into the bathtub. Yet again, his beauty snatched Obi-Wan’s breath away. Mortis had done Obi-Wan no favors in the looks department, but Anakin only seemed to improve with age. Callow youth had fled for good. What remained was the purest loveliness: strong limbs, rounded buttocks, slim waist, straight shoulders, graceful neck, and peaked nipples that had recently been overflowing with milk. There was complexity, even contradiction, yes—perhaps the dual nature of his sex was why Anakin always struggled so to find balance—but then nothing most deserving of human love was simple.

“You look amazing, beloved,” Obi-Wan said. He began to remove the wedding cloak and robe.

“Not as amazing as you,” Anakin replied as he sank with a happy sigh into the steaming bathwater. “How can you not see how gorgeous you are?” he asked rhetorically, like he had been reading Obi-Wan’s disparaging thoughts about his own appearance and wanted to refute them.

“I have eyes. There must be something wrong with yours.” Obi-Wan plopped himself down unceremoniously into the bath lengthwise across from Anakin.

Anakin gestured silently downward. His penis, untouched, was already thickening and twitching with interest. As they watched, the tapered foreskin stretched and opened, and the glans, shiny beneath the water, peeked through brazenly.

“Patience,” Obi-Wan said. But he knew his face was flushing crimson.

It was a bit awkward, and their legs were tangled together, but they nonetheless managed to give each other a thorough scrub. Comfortable and undemanding, these warm, wet touches gave a pleasure all their own. The fragrance of the soap, a piquant blend of pokemint and beachwood, was soothing to the senses.

In the interest of what was to come, Obi-Wan also paid special attention to his rear end, rubbing bathing oil into the delicate flesh of the anus to ensure, as much as possible, that it was smooth and supple.

“I promise I’ll make you feel good. You shouldn’t be anxious,” Anakin said.

“I’m not.”

And he wasn’t. In fact, he had never felt this calm yet energized outside of meditation, and more than ever, he thanked the Force that he had stayed with Anakin and the child. Did he worry about the Republic’s war against the Separatists? On some level, yes. On a different level, however, he knew the war effort would go on without him, hardly worse off for his absence. Obi-Wan had found the place he belonged—alongside the only two people in the entire galaxy who needed and wanted him, not for what he could do, but for who he _was_.

Okay, even if one of them definitely needed to have his vision examined.

Bath finished, they toweled each other dry. These perfunctory touches were enough to arouse them, and before long they were bumping and nuzzling and laughing and dropping kisses onto damp patches of skin.

The play continued unabated as they tumbled into bed. But their pleasure was building too quickly, and with a soft moan of disappointment, Obi-Wan managed to push Anakin away before one of them orgasmed and ended the affair early.

It was time. They regarded each other evenly.

“I was jealous of you when we first met, you know,” Anakin remarked. He gave Obi-Wan’s erection a squeeze.

Obi-Wan arched into the touch. Wait, why was he bringing this up now?

“Padm-the Queen’s handmaidens treated me like I was invisible. But you, they were always talking about you, how ‘cute’ you were, what you were like in bed.”

“I _never_ —” Obi-Wan began, scandalized.  

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin interrupted. His hand drifted lower to cup Obi-Wan’s scrotum, testing its weight. “You could have any girl—hells, any boy!—you want. You could have had them all.”

“That’s an exaggerat—”

“Fine, if that’s what you want to think,” Anakin interrupted him again. His fingers wandered lower still, to stroke Obi-Wan’s perineum. “But because you never fucked any of them,” he continued smoothly, “I got to be your first. And I’m going to be your first again tonight.”

“That’s true—”

Anakin ignored him. The tone of his voice changed, becoming intense, lower, hotter. “And when I pound you into the mattress, you’re going to scream and beg for mercy, and you will never, ever want anyone else fucking you but me.”

Obi-Wan’s anal sphincter tightened as one teasing, clever finger tickled and probed for entrance. Anakin’s expression had become predatory, hungry…

…and _he_ was on the top of the menu.

For the first time tonight, Obi-Wan felt something akin to fear.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding night, concluded.

Adrenaline and arousal were a potent combination, and Anakin’s wicked grin told Obi-Wan in no uncertain terms that he knew _exactly_ what that finger was doing to him.

He’d never even touched himself for pleasure in this way. Penetration would be a new experience. He felt lightheaded; his pulse was racing. Yes, finally, it would be now! Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut, tensed with anticipation, and—

Nothing happened. Anakin’s hand had not abandoned the place they would be joined, but it was merely stroking, kneading. A massage.

“You need lubrication, Obi-Wan. I never realized that I was…different. I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you,” Anakin said softly.

“Oh?” With supreme effort, Obi-Wan slowed his breathing and reined in the galloping beat of his heart. How thoughtful of Anakin. Downright considerate, in fact. He was impressed.

“Yeah. I’m thinking saliva or semen. Or maybe we could use my lubrication. This is what it’s for, and my body always makes plenty when I’m in the mood…”

One step forward, two light years’ worth of steps backward.

Obi-Wan’s face scrunched up into what he knew was an expression of near-comedic distaste. “Really, Anakin, so uncivilized! Surely we have something suitable in the ’fresher?”

“Awww, that’s no fun.”

“Nevertheless—”

“Nope. Too late, Obi-Wan. Lie back. I’ve decided for you.”

And with that declaration, Anakin crammed a pillow underneath Obi-Wan’s hips and put his mouth where his hand had been mere moments before.

Obi-Wan jerked and gasped.

It was…incredible.

Anakin’s lips were warm and plush against the pucker of muscle, but his tongue, oh, his _tongue_ —! His tongue was _alive_ , a writhing, questing thing. It was opening him up, demanding entry, seeking and finding all of those secret, sensitive places deep inside. He was helpless against the onslaught. He’d never felt so vulnerable.

Obi-Wan whimpered.

“Mmmmm. Mmmmm!” Anakin responded with a rumble of pleasure. The vibration seemed to shoot directly through Obi-Wan’s bowels and into his untouched erection. A tiny pearl of fluid was shaken loose from the tip and onto his heaving belly.

The tongue inside of him was becoming increasingly enthusiastic. It was actually making love to him now, thrusting in and out, unimaginable intimacy. And Anakin was using the fingers of both hands to loosen him even further. The very pillow beneath him was soaked with Anakin’s saliva. Obi-Wan spread his legs wider, pushed back against Anakin’s mouth, wanting more.

He whimpered again. He was more than ready. “Please…”

Anakin rose from between his thighs, wiping his mouth as he did so. His expression had become intent and hungry again, lustful. No, Obi-Wan thought, trembling, neither of them would be denied any desire tonight.

Anakin did not, thank the Force, have an especially large penis. But it was handsome and elegantly tapered, the shaft wider than the rosefruit glans, and the gradual penetration brought no pain, and oh, oh—! When the furred weight of Anakin’s scrotum pressed against him, such an unexpected sensation, Obi-Wan nearly came right then and there. And all the way inside, he could feel every detail of silky flesh, every squiggle of vein; it filled an empty space within him he hadn’t known existed.

“So tight…!” Anakin moaned, shuddering, holding himself still through sheer force of will. His eyes were scrunched shut. “Are you okay? Can I move now, Obi-Wan?”

“Look at me,” he commanded. Anakin did. Of course he was okay. As their eyes met, Obi-Wan took a deep breath and said, “Yes, do it.”

Anakin wrapped himself tightly around Obi-Wan, canted his hips, and, with a heartfelt groan, began with a strong, steady rhythm. Each stroke was sweet and drawn out and perfectly positioned to stimulate his prostate gland. Obi-Wan clutched that straining body against him, delighting in his surrender, in Anakin’s total control over their lovemaking.

They lasted a long time. But eventually their pleasure built beyond the point of no return, and the pace of Anakin’s thrusts became faster, more erratic. Anakin was keening. Then he buried his face into Obi-Wan’s shoulder, stiffened, and began to ejaculate. _That_ was absolutely glorious, feeling Anakin’s buttocks flex wildly beneath his fingers as he loaded Obi-Wan with pulse after heady pulse of warm semen…

Ecstatic, Obi-Wan tumbled headlong into his own orgasm. He sobbed as his entire body convulsed and seized with the intensity of it. It went on and on. He was floating, weightless, lost among the stars. And dimly he was aware that Anakin had never stopped, continuing his thrusts, drawing out their enjoyment as Obi-Wan fell leisurely back down to earth, until finally he could no longer maintain his erection and his penis slipped out with a satisfied, wet plop.

The time immediately subsequent passed unmarked. They lay side by side in the happy afterglow of their exertions, sweaty and replete.

“That was extraordinary,” Obi-Wan said. “Thank you.”

Anakin beamed with undisguised pride and gathered him into a loose, loving embrace. “Anything for you,” he said.

“I don’t recall screaming or begging for mercy, though,” Obi-Wan mused.

“Oops,” Anakin muttered sarcastically. He chuckled. “I guess I’ll have to work harder next time. Can’t have you straying on me, now can I? Good thing I have the rest of our lives to get it right.”

Well, they did indeed have the rest of their lives, such as it was. Obi-Wan snuggled closer to Anakin, savoring the lingering warmth of their bodies and the fragrance of their sex. That would just have to be enough.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you liked it! My sex scenes aren’t exactly God’s gift to Star Wars fandom, that’s for sure…


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The child is growing fast…but will it be fast enough for what is to come?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record: This isn’t going to be one of those fanfics that ends shortly after a marriage scene, either. I’ve still got a lot more planned!

Obi-Wan awakened the morning two weeks after their wedding night to the bright light of midday. They had slept in, and there was no rush to rise now. He felt cocooned in warmth and comfort.

Their daughter had joined them in bed some hours prior, insinuating herself between the welcoming bodies of her parents and falling asleep in their arms. She and Anakin, who was snoring softly, slept on, and the sight of them together made Obi-Wan ache with happiness.

The child had grown so much, with some of the roundness of childhood giving way and lengthening, reaching toward what would all-too-soon be adolescence. She was going to be tall, Obi-Wan thought, tall like her mother and slender like her father. And yet she was emphatically a child—their child—still, and her face was pressed against Anakin’s bare breast, her hand resting on the flesh above his heart. Anakin held her to him like she was his most valuable possession.

And in a very real sense, she was.

Obi-Wan reached out to caress the child’s head, fingers combing through a shimmering mass of hair that couldn’t quite decide if it wanted to be brown, blonde, or red. The touch was enough to wake her.

“Papa,” she murmured, turning to blink sleepily at him. “What is it? Is something the matter?”

“Nothing at all,” Obi-Wan assured her. “Just thinking about how beautiful you are. And how much I love you.”

She giggled appreciatively.

Behind her, Anakin groaned and muttered a string of incomprehensible syllables. He was not a morning person. Only the direst of emergencies would rouse him before he was good and ready, and today, there were no emergencies.

Obi-Wan climbed out of the sleeping pallet and headed to the refresher. By the time he emerged, clean, groomed, and dressed, Anakin and the child were up and breaking their fast with first meal.

While Obi-Wan helped himself to a carafe of cold black caf, Anakin pushed a plate heaped with a generous portion of soupy, hot grain and steamed vegetables in his direction. As always, the food was delicious.

“We’re going to go flying today. I don’t wanna be late!” the child announced, taking one last hurried gulp of milk. “We” meant the child and the Daughter.

Though still pensive at times, she seemed happier now that her parents were married, and she’d certainly developed a close bond with both the Father and the Daughter.

“Nothing too reckless!” Obi-Wan admonished as she rushed out the door.

Anakin shot Obi-Wan a triumphant, “I-told-you-so” smirk. As he had predicted, she did so enjoy the exhilaration of flight, more than virtually anything else.

“It’s unbecoming to gloat, beloved,” Obi-Wan groused.

Although they had argued heatedly about the shape the child’s education would take shortly after she had been born, it ended up being largely a non-issue. All of the day-to-day knowledge she needed seemed to come to her automatically, and whatever the Father was teaching her about the Force seemed to be working, for she was more skilled in its use than either Anakin or Obi-Wan had been as young Jedi Padawans.

“We should get the shuttle up and running again. I’m sure she’d love to learn how to pilot it,” Anakin said.

“Oh, very well,” Obi-Wan said with a sigh. They had the afternoon to themselves, and he’d been rather hoping they would be occupying themselves with…other diverting activities. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “It would be more convenient for everybody if we docked it here at the Father’s monastery. Perhaps the arena would be suitable?” The arena where Anakin had subdued both the Son and the Daughter simultaneously was large enough to park fifty shuttles.

So, it was a plan. Making their way on foot to the shuttle was more difficult than Obi-Wan had anticipated; Mortis’s rapid aging was taking quite the toll on his poor knees. And the shuttle was in stunningly poor repair; any normal mechanic would have taken days, maybe a whole week, to revive it, and even for Anakin it took several hours of sweating and swearing underneath the sublight engines, while barking occasional orders at Obi-Wan, before it was skyworthy once more.

By the time they were in the air, it was nearly dusk. The view of the planet from above was stunning, all craggy mountains and sweeping plains and crystalline rivers and lakes. The journey was actually romantic and, as far as Obi-Wan was concerned, over far too soon.

Anakin landed the shuttle in a corner of the arena where it would be protected from the worst of Mortis’s nighttime thunderstorms and gave the engine one more thorough status check before powering down. It was reassuring to know that the shuttle would be close by and on hand.

“Would you like to turn in early?” Obi-Wan asked, the implication of his question abundantly clear.

“I’d like nothing better,” Anakin replied, brushing a feather-light kiss to Obi-Wan’s lips that sent a delicious burst of heat rocketing through his body.

They were just exiting the shuttle, arm-in-arm and eager for their bed, when they heard the piercing cry of a giant raptor overhead. It was the Daughter.

The child leapt from the Daughter’s back while she was still at least thirty meters above them, landing lightly on her feet before her surprised parents.

“Mama! Papa!” She ran forward. Her eyes were panicked and wild. “We must hurry!”

“What’s the matter, little one?” Anakin asked. His voice sounded as disconcerted as Obi-Wan felt.

The Daughter touched down behind the child and transformed from griffin to humanoid form. “My father,” she said, “is on his deathbed.”

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Father dies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will you look at that?! The story is veering in the direction of plot again. ;-)

_I am dying_.

The Father had said those words himself. But after everything that had happened on Mortis, they had lost sight of their meaning. Forgetting had been convenient, truth be told, and when it came right down to it, Obi-Wan supposed he had assumed that both he and Anakin would pass into the Force long before the Father.

Now, though, they were faced with the very real possibility that the child would be compelled to assume a heavy mantle of responsibility before she had even reached adulthood. Was she ready? Really, how could _anyone_ in such a position be ready?

The Daughter led them through the Father’s monastery, a golden blur, so fast that her feet did not seem to touch the ground. It was a struggle to keep up, even with Force-assisted speed, although Anakin and the child did a better job of it than Obi-Wan, who was soon huffing and puffing some distance behind.

Alas, he wasn’t going to be able to outrun old age.

At least, Obi-Wan reminded himself repeatedly as he ran up twisting stairs and down winding halls, the child would not be alone. Her parents would be there for her, to guide and protect her, for however long they had left. Obi-Wan could but hope that the two of them would be up to the challenge.

Their destination was at the top of the highest tower and appeared to be the Father’s personal chambers. High above their heads, a rosette-shaped skylight refracted the natural light into a sea of little rainbows. Otherwise, though, the room was austere, with dimensions similar to their own room.

The Father lay prone on his back on a circular sleeping platform. Obi-Wan had not seen him since he and Anakin had petitioned for his permission to stay on Mortis, so the severity of his decline was painfully apparent. The long, thin face had become shriveled and sunken, the once luxurious beard had become sparse and brittle. Even the light of his eyes seemed to be hazy, fading; he did not seem fully aware of his surroundings.

The child knelt by his side, his gnarled right hand clutched between both of her small ones. Her face was drawn, forehead furrowed with concern. Anakin sat behind her, arms wrapped supportively around her shoulders. Obi-Wan remained standing and kept a respectful distance. He had known, of course, that the child had developed a strong bond with the Father during her daily lessons with him, but he and Anakin had never been allowed to supervise their interactions. It had never occurred to him precisely how much she had come to care for him…and how much his loss would grieve her.

The Daughter had taken a seat behind the Father’s head. She placed her hands gently upon his temples. “Father, we are here,” she said.

“Daughter…” His voice was barely louder than a whisper, a sigh upon the wind.

“The child is here as well. Her parents too,” the Daughter added.

The Father made a muffled sound of acknowledgement and only at that moment seemed to realize that the child was holding his hand. With what clearly took a supreme amount of effort, he turned his head to look at her. He smiled then, a gesture that was surely meant to comfort but mostly just reminded them all of the extremity of his pain.

“Please,” the child entreated plaintively, “don’t go. You can’t go. We need you.”

The Father laughed. It came out sounding more like a choked cough. “My time has passed, and time waits for no one,” he said.

“ _I_ need you. You haven’t finished my training! _Please!_ ” the child pleaded.

“Anything you do not yet know you shall discover for yourself. It is the way of things.”

“But—”

“You will take good care of my children, won’t you? The balance between light and dark must be maintained,” the Father said.

“I—” the child began, her eyes wide with trepidation.

But the Father seemed not to be listening to the child anymore. His head straightened, and he looked up at the Daughter. She was weeping openly. “Oh, my dear child,” he murmured, lifting one trembling hand to wipe away her tears, “don’t cry. I will be joining your mother now. How terribly I’ve missed her these many long years…”

The Daughter gulped and nodded.

“Tell your brother that I love him. And tell him how sorry I am.”

Obi-Wan felt suddenly apprehensive. Where _was_ the Son, anyway? There had been no sight or sign of him after the Father had been forced to “contain” him. Surely this containment would end with the Father’s death…? Unfortunately, this was not the right time or place to be asking questions.

The Daughter merely nodded again in acknowledgment.

“Do not be afraid, my daughter,” the Father said. “You are in good hands. The child has inherited the Chosen One’s destiny; I have foreseen it. She will become the new Mother on Mortis.”

He said no more. Shortly thereafter, he closed his eyes, exhaled his final breath, and died.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Father’s funeral. Secrets from the Force Wielders’ past are revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurs to me that I haven’t updated the tags for this story in quite a long time. I’m not very good at tagging fics, so if you have any suggestions for additional tags, I’m all ears! :-)

The Father was laid to rest within a stone mausoleum set atop a low-lying, windswept hill overlooking moorland half a day’s journey from the monastery. The terrain surrounding the tomb was empty, even bleak, and dotted with countless barrow mounds. Nevertheless, the energies of the Force felt exceptionally calm in this place—not a hint of darkness intruded on its abiding peace.

There were no rituals, no funerary rites to commemorate his passing. Obi-Wan, Anakin, and the child merely looked on in respectful silence as the Daughter called upon the Force to lower the Father’s body into its tomb. Then, after a few minutes of contemplation, the Daughter called upon the Force once more, closing and covering over the tomb with a thick stone slab decorated with a cross-shaped starburst.

The child sniffled and hiccupped. This was the first death she had ever seen in her young life. It couldn’t be easy for her.

“You mustn’t grieve, little one. He had a good life, and it was his time to rejoin the Force. He is at peace now. Be happy for him,” Anakin said.

Sometimes, Obi-Wan wished Anakin were a bit less skilled at dispensing good advice and a bit _more_ skilled at actually taking it himself. Although he hid his feelings well and refused to discuss the matter, Obi-Wan knew that Anakin had never gotten over his own mother’s death fully and continued to castigate himself for her loss.

The child, of course, was not aware of any irony. “Yes, Mama,” she replied, all loving, unquestioning obedience, as Anakin gently escorted her out of the mausoleum.  

Obi-Wan was about to follow his family when he noticed that the Daughter lingered, unmoving, before her father’s tomb. Cautiously, he approached to stand beside her. This might be his best chance to ask some of the questions that had troubling him of late.

“It’s a shame your brother could not be in attendance today,” Obi-Wan began with utmost politeness. “Surely he would have wanted to be here?”

The Daughter did not seem to register his presence. Obi-Wan was a second from giving up and returning to his family when, gaze still fixed on the tomb, she spoke. “No. They were not getting on well. He always did blame Father for our mother’s death.”

“Your mother?” Obi-Wan asked. “The Father spoke of her before his passing. I should have thought he would wish to be buried at her side, but he appears to be the first laid to rest here.”

“Mother died long ago. There is nothing left to bury.”

“May I ask how she died? If it’s an inappropriate question—”

The Daughter’s emerald eyes lifted. She looked fierce, suddenly. Obi-Wan felt pinned down under the weight of her gaze.

“Mother was killed by beings who feared that which they could not understand,” the Daughter said. “We are sustained by the Force, as you are sustained in your life by air and water and food. And like you, our needs shape our environment.”

So, _that_ was what he had seen in the Father’s monastery. To think! Beings who don’t so much wield the Force as they do consume it…

The Daughter seemed to read his thoughts. “What we consume is not destroyed. It is merely changed in form to better reflect our natures. My mother’s nature, like my father’s, existed between what you simplistically term the ‘light’ and ‘dark’ sides of the Force. Some preferring to live wholly in the light captured and destroyed her.”

“But surely not!” Obi-Wan protested. Such an act against an innocent life would be the very antithesis of the light side as understood by the Jedi.

“They believed it would be for the greater good, the many taking precedence over the one,” she said.

Ah, Obi-Wan thought, how dangerous the self-deluding rationalizations of the righteous could be!

The Daughter continued, “But her death changed me, so that I am as you see me now. Unfortunately, it also drove my brother into the darkness.”

Obi-Wan was beginning to understand. “This is why you and your brother have been sequestered on Mortis,” he said.

“Yes. Individually, we risk upsetting the balance. Only by existing outside the temporal world, together, in a place such as this one through which all the Force in the universe flows, can our non-interference be assured.”

“And the child? How can one human child prevent beings as powerful as yourselves from leaving Mortis?”

“The Chosen One and his heir have the capacity to draw directly upon the planet’s power. It sustains their physical bodies to some degree, even without their conscious will,” the Daughter said.

Obi-Wan blinked. “Sustains their physical bodies”…? Could that explain, for instance, why Anakin and the child never seemed to use the refresher?

“It also allows them to operate the celestial gate,” she continued, seemingly unaware, or uninterested, in Obi-Wan’s surprise. “The gate is the only way to leave Mortis.”

“The ‘gate’…?” Obi-Wan echoed. But he already knew. They’d all seen the monstrous, diamond-shaped edifice hovering in deep space—he, Anakin, and Ahsoka—right before their shuttle had been pulled into it.   

“Yes. The child must guard the gate at all costs; the only way anyone can leave Mortis now is through her. And my brother very much wants to leave.”

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Yes, yes, I know that in the show the Father’s body disappears after he dies. The implication, of course, is that he becomes a Force Ghost. For the purposes of this story, however, please be assured that he’s dead and isn’t coming back.
> 
> (2) And yes, in the old Expanded Universe, the Force Wielders are revealed to have had a mother ([of sorts](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Abeloth)). I’m not a huge fan of that whole story concept, for what it’s worth. So, for the purposes of this story, please also assume that she does not exist and, indeed, has never existed.


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin teaches his daughter to pilot their shuttle. This may not have been a good idea…

Anakin was teaching the child how to pilot the shuttle.

Well, if aerial loops, spins, twists, somersaults, and dives could be considered “piloting.”

Given how little time their family had left together, Obi-Wan had planned to be in the passenger seat for every lesson. Unfortunately, Obi-Wan’s stomach had begged to differ with that plan, and so for the past couple of days, he had remained on solid ground.

It wasn’t necessarily all bad, though. It gave the child and her mother some quality time alone together, which Obi-Wan was convinced they both needed now that the child was on the cusp of adolescence. Anakin, unlike Obi-Wan, was _fun_ , the eternal naughty sibling, but he was also nurturing, supportive, and protective—the perfect parent for any child facing transition and uncertainty.

And moreover, it gave Obi-Wan some time alone. He had discovered that he liked the solitude, the peace and quiet, absent the many external pressures that had always weighed so heavily upon him as a Jedi. Mostly, he spent these hours in meditative exercise in the open-air arena, allowing the currents of the Force to move freely through him, brightening the shadows in his heart, scrubbing away the cobwebs clogging his mind…

They had not seen the Daughter at all since the Father’s funeral, and the Son, thankfully, seemed to be actively avoiding them. The child’s powers appeared to be consolidating rapidly, even in the absence of further training from the Father. Her parents’ sole remaining task, therefore, was to ensure that the child became the woman that she had all the potential in the galaxy to be. Obi-Wan had every confidence in their abilities in this regard.

The shuttle swooped in for a balletic landing just as Obi-Wan was executing the last in a complex sequence of unarmed katas. Anakin and the child jogged down the exit ramp of the shuttle to join him, silently mirroring his movements as he wound his exercises down first to half-speed and then to a controlled, graceful finish.

“Perfect form as always, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said with an affectionate smile.

Obi-Wan merely arched an eyebrow in Anakin’s direction and turned to the child. “And how was flying this afternoon?” he asked her.

“Really, really fun, Papa! I think I’m getting the hang of it now,” the child enthused.

“She’s gonna be as good at flying as her Mama!” Anakin crowed.

Of course. That was _exactly_ what Obi-Wan’s stomach was most terrified of. He was attempting to formulate a response that didn’t sound like he was beset by upsetting flashbacks, when the child interrupted with a change of subject.

“We saw a storm front rolling in from the southeast on our way back,” she said. “May I please go and play?”

Mortis’s ever-changing days and nights, seasons, and weather patterns posed no danger to the child, and her unabashed love of the planet’s many natural wonders reassured her parents that it good and truly was her homeworld. In every sense of the word.

“Very well,” Obi-Wan conceded. “As long as you remember to stay within sight of the Father’s monastery.”

The child hooted and sprinted with Force-assisted speed down toward the valley below. Before long, she was a tiny figure in the far distance. But, as promised, she was never out of sight.

Obi-Wan chuckled indulgently and wrapped his arms around Anakin from behind, resting his head on his shoulder, as, together, they supervised their child’s play from the arena’s high vantage point. So utterly fearless. She did not run from the night as it overtook her and the storm moved in with it. Rather, she reveled in the rain and the cacophony of thunder that accompanied it.

With jaw-dropping amazement, they saw her catch a stray bolt of lightning with her bare hands and safely dissipate the electrical energy into the air around her. In all the Jedi Order, only Grand Master Yoda was known to be capable of such feats.

“Umm…you didn’t teach her that, did you?” Anakin muttered.

“Lightning is my speciality, don’t you know,” Obi-Wan replied with gentle irony.

Now he was more optimistic than ever that the child had the capacity succeed as Mortis’s guardian.

With customary abruptness, the storm front passed, and the clouds parted to reveal a lone full moon. Obi-Wan expected the child to begin heading for home, but she did not move—and with a sickening jolt, he realized the reason for that: She was not alone.

A boy was standing before her. He was dark-haired, slim, and swarthy; he wore nothing but a loincloth. And despite the moon’s bright illumination, he seemed cloaked in darkness.

“Who is—?” Anakin began.

There was no time for explanations. “Anakin, you have to disable the shuttle,” Obi-Wan said urgently.

“But, why?” Anakin protested. He was frozen, seemingly unable to tear his gaze from the tableau unfolding below.

As if in slow motion, Obi-Wan watched as the boy dropped to his knees before the child. She was soaked to the skin from the rain; her dress had become practically transparent. And then, oh stars, no, no, no, no, _no_ — The boy took one of the child’s hands in both of his and brought it, palm up, to his lips.  

The last time Obi-Wan had seen this boy, where that mouth had been—

“Do it!” Obi-Wan shouted, frantic, pushing Anakin’s body hard in the direction of the shuttle. “ _Now_ , before it’s too late!!”

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) The ending of this chapter is meant to be a dark mirror of sorts to the ending of Chapter 29.
> 
> (2) By the way, if you don’t remember what happened waaaaay back in Chapter 7, you may wish to reacquaint yourself with it now. ;-)


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The relationship between the child and her parents is put under immense strain.

“The shuttle’s not going anywhere now,” Anakin said.

That was awfully fast, Obi-Wan thought vaguely. Most of his attention, however, remained fixed on two distant figures in the valley below the Father’s monastery: the child and the Son, disguised as a handsome, dark-haired boy.  

“I removed the ignition plug,” Anakin added helpfully.

They had not moved appreciably from the place they had met. They did not appear to be doing much of anything at all. They were just sitting side by side on the ground, holding hands. Presumably, they were deep in conversation, but Obi-Wan could not be certain. And of course he had no idea what they might be saying to each other.

“Are you even listening to me, Obi-Wan?”

“Eh?” Belatedly, Obi-Wan realized that Anakin was still talking. Right, the ignition plug, a piece of inscrutable technology the size and shape of a thumb that was needed to start the shuttle’s antigrav repulsors. Easy to remove, yes—but also all too easy to reinstall. “And what did you do with it?” he asked.

Anakin hesitated. “Well…”

That was uncharacteristic. Something was amiss. Although the direction of his gaze did not change, Obi-Wan shifted additional attention to Anakin. “Well, _what_?” he pressed.

“I, uhh…” Anakin paused, squirming audibly. “I swallowed it,” he admitted at last.

“Oh. I see.”

Seemed that all the practice they’d gotten lately in the bedroom swallowing long, cylindrical objects had come in handy. Who would’ve ever suspected?

“An unexpected but effective solution, my beloved. And given your odd avoidance of the ’fresher of late, I doubt we’ll be seeing it again anytime soon,” Obi-Wan observed, deadpan.

Anakin had the grace to blush.

Then, in spite of the gravity of the situation, Obi-Wan laughed aloud. As it turned out, it would be a long, long time before he found anything quite so ridiculously funny again.

***

“But _why_ can’t I go flying anymore, Mama?”

They had never heard the child whine before. There was a first time for everything.

“The shuttle is grounded for the time being,” Anakin repeated, adamant.

“But _WHY?!_ ” The child was becoming louder, more upset.

“The shuttle is the only mode of transport off-planet. As you know, the Son must not be allowed to leave. You have a duty,” Obi-Wan said, attempting to be reasonable.

“And you think _I_ would take him? Don’t you trust me?! Besides, he hasn’t even asked!”

Three days had passed since the child’s introduction to the Son. Naturally, Anakin would have cheerfully locked her away in a high tower like some folktale princess, but it wasn’t actually possible to prevent the child from interacting with him. Nor, if Obi-Wan were honest with himself, was it necessarily desirable. As Mortis’s future Mother, she was responsible, ultimately, for the protection and wellbeing of both the Daughter and the Son. For her parents to prevent contact between the child and the two Force Wielders at this developmental stage might well be counterproductive, perhaps outright destructive.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “The Son cannot be trusted. I am sorry.”

“No, you’re not sorry, Papa!” Angry tears were starting to well up in the child’s eyes. “It’s just that you don’t like him and you’re punishing me for it!”

They had never argued with their child before either. There was a first time for everything, indeed.

“Now, see here—” Anakin began, his temper rising.

“Well, I like him!” the child interrupted. She was shouting now. “He’s my friend!”

“He’s _not_ —” Anakin’s shout matched hers.

“Okay, fine then—have it your way! He’s not my friend! Because nobody allows me to have any friends!!” The child was flushed. Tears were coursing freely down her cheeks.

Obi-Wan felt his chest tighten. This was a thousand times worse than the worst years of master-apprentice conflict with Anakin. Because, no matter how loud Anakin had yelled about how the Jedi Council was jealous of his power or how Obi-Wan was deliberately holding him back from his full potential, at least Anakin’s accusations had never been _true_.

Anakin and Obi-Wan exchanged silent, helpless glances. It was true: She didn’t have friends. She was too old for her imaginary ones, and the Daughter, still deep in mourning over the death of the Father, had been absent of late. That left the Son, and he was selfish, vain, and steeped in the dark side of the Force. He was nobody’s friend.

But the child was lonely.

“Oh, little one…” Anakin reached out to cup the child’s face between his two hands tenderly.

She pushed away from him violently, hurled herself down onto her sleeping pallet, and yanked the blankets up over her head. All that was visible was a shuddering, sobbing lump.

Unsure about what else to do, her parents decided to prepare for bed. Together, they gathered up armfuls of bedding and made an impromptu nest for themselves around the child. They slept the night with their daughter between them; they wanted her to know how much they loved her.

In the morning, though, when they awoke, she was already gone.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) The scatological _and_ bawdy humor of this story have officially become tied together into a single plot point! X-D (Alas, things might not be funny again for quite awhile.)


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The concerned parents appeal to the Daughter for assistance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parts of this chapter are adapted from the episode, “Altar of Mortis.”

It wasn’t like the time they’d lost her in the gorge. This time, they could feel the child clearly through the Force. She was—at least for the moment—unharmed, and she hadn’t gone far.

Anakin and Obi-Wan tarried in their room only long enough to retrieve and reassemble their lightsabers. Obi-Wan didn’t think they would do much good, but they seemed to give Anakin some measure of comfort, and Obi-Wan wasn’t about to object to anything that reduced Anakin’s not-inconsiderable inner turmoil.

They found the child in the arena. She was with the Son.

Of course, Anakin wanted to rush headlong into confrontation, lightsabers ablaze, but Obi-Wan restrained him. Antagonizing the Son could very well put the child’s life at risk, and he and the child only appeared to be talking. The two men crept closer, keeping to the shadows and out of sight, trying to listen in.

“—don’t trust me,” the child was saying. “Mama disabled the shuttle.”

“They are holding you back, just as my father did to me. I do not believe this planet is our destiny.”

“But the Father—!” she protested. She was nothing if not loyal to her onetime mentor.

“There are other ways for you to fly,” the Son interrupted smoothly. He obviously did not want to discuss the Father. “Do you trust me?” he asked.

The child nodded wordlessly, eyes wide.

“Don’t be frightened,” he said, reaching out to run the pad of one thumb along the child’s upper lip. Trembling, she leaned subtly into the caress.

Anakin hissed and struggled against Obi-Wan’s grip. Obi-Wan succeeded in holding on, though his fingers were probably digging into Anakin’s bicep deeply enough to bruise.

The Son stepped back two paces, and the shape of the handsome boy he favored in his interactions with the child seemed to darken, swell, and twist. The fanged gargoyle crouched before her. Obi-Wan’s heart skipped a beat, but the creature did not attack. It merely emitted a strange, high-pitched whining noise and lowered its head.

By the time they realized what was going to happen, it was too late: The child had climbed onto the Son’s monstrous, muscular back. The Son lifted his giant, webbed wings and flew away.

“Where’s that ignition plug when we need it? Oh, that’s right—your stomach,” Obi-Wan said to Anakin, heaving a helpless sigh of resignation as they watched the gargoyle carry the child over the horizon.

Giving immediate chase in the shuttle wasn’t going to be an option.

***

They found the Daughter beside the Father’s tomb later the same day, frozen in an aspect of profound mourning. As far as Obi-Wan knew, she had been there, unmoving in her grief, since the day of his funeral.

“Your brother has taken the child,” Obi-Wan began without preamble.

“He must have his reasons,” the Daughter replied. She did not turn to look at them or otherwise display any interest whatsoever in their plight.

Undeterred, Obi-Wan continued, “The same reason he had for imprisoning us and attempting to murder your father?”

 _Now_ he had her attention. She approached Obi-Wan, visibly scandalized by his accusation. “He would never do such a thing!”

“But we saw him,” Obi-Wan insisted. Anakin nodded in confirmation. “Why do you think your father was forced to contain him?”

The Daughter’s chin lifted. “It was not his fault. My nature is to do what is selfless, but my brother’s will always be to do what is selfish.”

“Then know you must help us!” Obi-Wan said, hoping to appeal to the selflessness of her nature.

“I cannot interfere,” she said, expression pained.

“Your brother will use the child to flee this place and wreak havoc on the universe. You know it to be true. But you and Anakin combined have the power to stop him!”

The Daughter was silent. She looked inclined to refuse.

“Please,” Anakin said. “The child told us you are her friend. She loves you.”

The Daughter’s eyes fell onto Anakin. He held her gaze, strong in his convictions.

“Come with me,” she said, heading toward the exit of the mausoleum, shoulders squared with resolve.

***

The mouth of a cave. The Daughter led Obi-Wan and Anakin inside.

Precarious stone steps carved directly into the rock face led down into a veritable underground canyon, carved into solid bedrock by a whitewater river raging hundreds of meters below. They progressed further and further along the canyon until they came to a halt at the edge of a sheer cliff.

Obi-Wan looked down past the drop-off. What stood revealed there, surrounded by eerie blue-green tongues of flame, bore no resemblance to anything he had seen so far on Mortis.

“I can go no further,” the Daughter said. “When you reach the altar, it will give you what you need.”

Obi-Wan looked at Anakin. Anakin nodded and jumped down toward the altar. As he approached, it opened like a holocron to reveal an object hovering vertically in the air. After a moment’s contemplation, Anakin reached out to grab it, and as if in response to his touch, a blade and pommel materialized around the object. Belatedly, Obi-Wan realized that the object had been a hilt.

Anakin was holding a giant dagger.

He was still turning it around in his hands, marveling at its craftsmanship and mysterious beauty, when he returned to where Obi-Wan and the Daughter were standing.

“He who wields the blade will be able to control my brother,” the Daughter said.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan to rescue the child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umm…if perchance you have forgotten, please remind yourself of the story’s rating.

“What _is_ this place?!” Anakin asked with astonishment. Obi-Wan had been wondering the same thing.

“This is the Well,” the Daughter replied. “The dark side is stronger here than anywhere else in the universe. It lends my brother great power, and it is where he will have taken the child.”

They stared down into the smoking chasm. From their vantage point high in the clouds above, riding on the back of the Daughter’s griffin form, Anakin behind Obi-Wan, they could not see its bottom. For all they knew, it led directly into the center of the planet itself.

“I don’t like this,” Anakin muttered. His body was taut against Obi-Wan’s back.

“You don’t have to like it—as long as you play your part in the plan as discussed,” Obi-Wan remonstrated.

Anakin grunted his assent as they descended into the Well.

The shaft was deep indeed, and it went straight down for what was easily several kilometers. The temperature rose dramatically as they progressed downward, becoming nigh unbearable; Obi-Wan was soaked with sweat in seconds. And the source of the heat was soon hellishly apparent: an endless, swirling sea of glowing, yellow-orange magma.

“Charming,” Obi-Wan remarked.

The locus of the Well’s power was a small outcropping, etched with various inscrutable runic symbols, rising above the magma sea. Sure enough, the child was there, lying prone and sprawled on her back. She did not appear to be moving. They were still much too far away to ascertain her condition, if she had been harmed or was merely unconscious. The Son was nowhere in sight.

The Daughter dropped the two men off some distance above the outcropping. After dismounting quickly, they got down low to conceal themselves. It was agreed that she would attempt to draw her brother out and distract him while Anakin and Obi-Wan rescued the child.

Anakin wore the Dagger of Mortis on his belt. It was a last resort. Were something to go wrong, he would, at best, have only one chance to use it on the Son.

As expected, the Son appeared as soon as the Daughter had landed and assumed his customary pale-skinned humanoid form, intercepting her before she could approach the child.

“Sister,” he greeted. “So good of you to join us.”

The Daughter craned her neck and stepped sideways, trying to get closer to the child. The Son, however, divining her intentions, kept his body between them.

“I confess I am surprised that you were able to rouse yourself from your grief. Father did always love you best.” The Son sniffed.

“I have been missing you, my brother,” the Daughter said, ignoring what had to be a longstanding sibling rivalry. She stepped forward and reached out for him. He stepped backward, neatly evading her grasp.

Obi-Wan chewed on the inside of his lip. The Daughter had seemed so certain. But would this really work?

“Our mother would not have wanted such strife between us,” she continued, soft. “We are the last of our kind. We should…” She raised one hand to touch her collarbone, and, ever so slowly, ran light fingers down to her belly, until they hovered just above the space between her legs.

The Son was watching her movements avidly. “You…you would…” he whispered, his voice barely audible above the hiss and rumble of molten rock all around them.

“Please,” she entreated, reaching for him again. “Please, my brother, I love you. Don’t you love me?”

This time, the Son’s resistance crumbled. He stepped eagerly into the Daughter’s welcoming embrace. “Sister, oh sister…” he moaned again and again as he clutched her tightly to him and buried his face into her hair, her neck, her shoulders. She wrapped all four limbs around his body as he eased her down to the ground, his hips already rocking and grinding into her with desperate need. She pulled him into a hard, all-consuming kiss.

Now! This was their chance! Obi-Wan first, and then Anakin right behind him, leapt down from the ledge and onward to the outcropping. The child had been left unattended, and the Son was much too busy coupling enthusiastically with his sister to notice their arrival.

As soon as Obi-Wan reached the child’s side, he checked her pulse. It was strong, thank the Force, and she was breathing steadily, but she did not seem responsive. With dawning horror, Obi-Wan took in the state of her clothing (soiled and torn), the bite marks on her lips, breasts, and— _no, no, no, oh please, no_ —on the insides of her thighs. Thick clots of semen were oozing out of her onto the bare rock below—

Anakin wailed his fury and despair—

—and the Son saw them there.

Mouth twisted in rage, he turned on the Daughter, who was still lying prone beneath him, trembling, eyes unfocused and glazed with pleasure.

“You!” he roared, his hands closing around her neck. “You were going to betray me—!!”

There was a sickening crunch. Her neck had snapped. The Son had killed the Daughter.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final battle with the Son.

The Son seemed shocked that his sister was dead.

“Sister? Sister?!” he cried, shaking her.

Obi-Wan didn’t need to watch the Daughter’s body flop about, her head turned at an unnatural angle, to know that life had fled. He had felt it in the Force, like the warmth of a star suddenly extinguished, leaving behind only the cold vacuum of space. The delicate balance between the light and the darkness was tipping—

For all Obi-Wan knew, it might already be too late.

“You—!” the Son roared. He rounded on Anakin and Obi-Wan, both of whom had already drawn their weapons and assumed defensive positions in front of their unconscious child, with unchecked fury. “This is _your_ fault! You made her betray me!!”

“We did nothing. You did that yoursel—” Obi-Wan began, trying to be the voice of reason.

“You’ll pay for what you did to our child!” Anakin shouted over Obi-Wan, launching himself at the Son, the Dagger of Mortis in a two-handed grip held high over his head. Oh well. So much for reason.

The Son made an almost casual gesture. The Dagger flew out of Anakin’s hands and into the Son’s. A second gesture disarmed Obi-Wan. A third yanked Anakin’s lightsaber from his belt. All three weapons were now in the Son’s outstretched hand. He tossed them aside carelessly.

“Did you think you could control me??” he asked, voice dripping with contempt. “Is that what my sister promised you?!”

To his horror, Obi-Wan realized that he could not move from where he stood. He could not even open his mouth to speak.

Anakin appeared to be in much the same condition, frozen in mid-run, his body vibrating with tension. Obi-Wan could feel Anakin struggling against the Son’s Force-wielding abilities, much as he had in the arena during the Father’s test of his powers. But the Daughter had been right about the Well: The unique strength of the dark side here made the Son much too potent even for Anakin to overcome.

“That blade was used to kill my mother, you know,” the Son said, almost conversationally, viciousness temporarily contained but no less dangerous for being reined in. “My father believed that a part of her spirit lived on within it and therefore could not bear to see it destroyed. I presume my sister showed you the altar?”

The silence hung heavily between them. Was one of them supposed to answer that question? Suddenly, Obi-Wan realized that he could speak again. “What happened to our child?” he asked.

“Nothing she didn’t want,” the Son replied, smirking. Obi-Wan could practically hear Anakin grinding his teeth into powder. “I opened her eyes and showed her the truth of her destiny. It was, I imagine, quite the shock to her system.

“Ah, enough of the small talk. The two of you are but nuisances; the universe is well rid of you. Now,” the Son said, raising both of his hands, palms upward. Obi-Wan felt himself being lifted up off of his feet. Anakin too was hovering several centimeters in the air. “Which of you wants to die first?”

Needless to say, neither Anakin nor Obi-Wan was inclined to volunteer.

“Ladies first, then.” The Son gestured, and Anakin’s body rose higher and began to rotate slowly. “How would you like to die? I could drop you into the magma; burning you alive seems fitting, somehow. Or I could dismember you, tearing you apart limb by limb. But, hmm, no—you’ve already lost one arm, so that’s one-fourth less fun.” The Son stroked his chin thoughtfully, gleaming red eyes narrowed. Anakin could do nothing but glare balefully whenever his mid-air spinning brought the Son into his view.

“Am I allowed an opinion?” Anakin spat. It seemed he had recovered the power of speech.

“By all means,” the Son replied with false good humor.

“A duel. You and me.”

The Son pretended to ponder Anakin’s words for a moment. Then he shrugged. “Nah, too much of a hassle,” he said definitively. “I’d rather just get this over with. The greater galaxy awaits, after all.”

Crimson lightning poured from the Son’s fingers and struck Anakin. Anakin shrieked, his body convulsing in a back-bending arc. The Son paused and struck a second time. This time, Anakin was silent in his agony, face twisted in a rictus of pain, and for a split second Obi-Wan would have sworn he could actually see Anakin’s skeleton illuminated underneath his smoking flesh. Again, the Son paused. Anakin hung limply, still under the power of the Son’s Force telekinesis. He was a hairsbreadth from losing consciousness. The Son lifted his hand for the final strike…

But the expected bolts of electricity never came.

The Dagger of Mortis was buried, all the way to the hilt, in the Son’s back. His eyes were wide with shock as he collapsed beside the body of the Daughter.

Anakin hit the ground with a dull thud.

The child reeled backward, staring down at her own hands in disbelief. Obi-Wan made it just in time to catch her before she too could fall.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? :-) An appropriate end for the Son? Or too abrupt? (Similarities to Obi-Wan’s fight with Anakin on Mustafar and to Luke’s fight with Vader and the Emperor on the second Death Star are totally intentional!)


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What will the little family do now that all of the Force Wielders are dead?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, we are starting to explore the true meaning of the title of this story!!

Obi-Wan tried to ease the child down into a sitting position on the ground, but she was having none of it. “Mama! Mama!” she cried, straining desperately toward Anakin’s prone form. “Is Mama okay?!”

Together, she and Obi-Wan half-stumbled and half-crawled toward Anakin. His face was scrunched tightly in pain, but it was clear that he was—albeit barely—conscious. With a heartfelt groan, he managed to flop flat onto his back. He saw the child. “Little one,” he murmured, relief evident despite the agonized slur of his voice.

The child heaved an enormous sob and curled herself around Anakin’s body. He groaned again—her weight against him probably wasn’t helping any—but nevertheless lifted one arm to pat the child’s back soothingly. His eyes drifted shut.

The immediate danger to the family, it seemed, had passed. The rush of adrenalin that had fueled Obi-Wan during their confrontation with the Son dissipated, leaving him exhausted and empty. Belatedly, he began to absorb the sheer horror of what had happened, how terribly close he’d come to losing both his life mate and their child. It was not an experience he hoped to repeat anytime in the near future.

And yet, their ordeal wasn’t over. They were still in the Well, kilometers below the surface of the planet and surrounded by a magma sea. How were they going to get out? Obi-Wan’s mind churned, but no solution presented itself.

Casting about helplessly, his eyes shifted from his family to the crumpled bodies of the Force Wielders. In death, the Daughter and the Son almost seemed to be embracing, a troubling parody of their complicated relationship in life. If it weren’t for the dagger sticking out from between the Son’s shoulder blades…

The Dagger of Mortis was glowing.

It had never done that before. Obi-Wan rubbed his eyes. No mistake—and it was getting brighter.

“Erm…” Obi-Wan began.

The Dagger disappeared in a burst of blinding white light. The bodies of the Daughter and the Son burst into flame. The Daughter burned blue; the Son burned red. Twin fires burned higher and higher, the bodies completely consumed, but even then the flames did not die down. Instead, they twisted and spiraled and merged, hue changing to a vibrant purple.

That purple fire was taking on a vaguely humanoid form.

“I was the Mother of the Ones you knew as Force Wielders.” The voice was the low roar of the inferno, and it seemed to be speaking directly into Obi-Wan’s head. From the reactions of Anakin and the child, he knew they could hear it too. “My thanks to the Chosen One for having brought balance to this world.”

The fire seemed to pour into Obi-Wan then, searing unbearably hot with all the love and passion in the universe. It filled him with hope and renewed strength. He felt himself being borne upwards, lifted on wings of smoke—

They had been returned to the arena outside the Father’s monastery. Anakin and the child were on their feet; somehow, their wounds had been healed.

The purple fire was much dimmer now in the light of Mortis’s day. “I am free to join my family. Please remember them kindly,” the voice in their head—she?—said.

It faded and was gone.

The three of them just stood there, stunned, for quite a long time. Finally, Obi-Wan shook his head in amazement. Balance had been restored through the deaths of the Daughter and the Son? That was one way of going about it, he supposed, although it was hardly the optimal solution. Still…

“Well, I suppose that’s that. Another mission accomplished in the face of unbelievable odds,” Obi-Wan remarked, trying for a lighthearted tone he wasn’t certain he actually felt. “There’s no reason to stay here anymore,” he continued, gesturing toward the shuttle. “We could go home.”

New possibilities were opening up before Obi-Wan, aching and poignant. He and Anakin weren’t Jedi anymore. They were free to love each other as they wished. Maybe they could find a quiet corner of the galaxy somewhere, far away from the war, to raise their child to adulthood, to live a life reckoned in years and decades instead of mere months. Anakin could take up professional podracing again or something else similarly death-defying. Obi-Wan could catch up on his reading. He and Anakin would grow old together…

“We’re already home,” Anakin said flatly. The stubborn set to his expression broke through Obi-Wan’s embarrassingly pleasant fantasies and stomped on them.

“But there’s no reason—” Obi-Wan objected.

“We’re already home,” Anakin repeated.

It seemed that Anakin did not want to leave Mortis. Ah well. No point in wondering why. Whatever Anakin wanted—Obi-Wan would not object. They had taken each other as life mates, and Obi-Wan took his marriage vows _very_ seriously. For however long he lived, he would never willingly be parted from Anakin.

“As you say, beloved,” Obi-Wan said agreeably and pulled Anakin in for a tender kiss.

The child cleared her throat politely.

Guiltily, the two men turned to look at her. Although the child had seemingly been healed of whatever physical damage the Son had inflicted, her white dress remained soiled and torn, and her meticulously braided hair had come undone. Obi-Wan felt nauseous once more as he remembered what he had glimpsed between her legs. Stars only knew what sort of psychological damage she may have suffered as a consequence.

“Perhaps you’d like to get cleaned up before last meal?” Obi-Wan suggested with infinite gentleness. “We should check you for injury as well—”

“I’m fine,” the child interrupted with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“I _really_ don’t think—” Anakin began.

“You can’t stay here, Mama,” the child continued. “You or Papa. You will have to leave me behind.”

                                                     

TO BE CONTINUED


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Chosen One must confront destiny.

“You’re being ridiculous. We’d never leave you here by yourself. It’s out of the question!” Anakin scoffed.

“Indeed.” Obi-Wan couldn’t agree more. What had happened to her in the Well? He stroked his beard. “Wherever did you acquire this notion?”

“C’mon, it’ll be getting dark soon. We can talk about it inside,” Anakin said, reaching for the child’s arm.

The child jerked backward in order to evade his grasp. “ _Don’t_ ,” she said.

Anakin was stunned. She had never refused his touch before. He looked like he didn’t know what to do with his hands.

“It’s just— If I allow— I can’t—” the child stuttered, her placid expression collapsing into sorrow.

“I think you need to explain,” Obi-Wan suggested in his most placating voice. “Take a deep breath, and start from the beginning.”

She obeyed, closing her eyes, taking a deep breath, and striving to compose herself. The evening light seemed to blur around her for a moment. When it cleared, her clothes and hair were neat and clean. Yet again, Obi-Wan marveled at the planet’s enduring mysteries. After a pregnant pause, the child began to speak:

“The Son did not believe Mortis was my destiny. So he broke the laws of time and took me to the Well to show me my future. Except… It wasn’t _my_ future that I saw.”  She turned to Anakin. “It was _yours_ , Mama.”

Anakin blinked. “Oh? Is it tremendous? Do I become supreme leader of the galaxy or something?” he asked in a weak attempt at humor.

“You are the Chosen One who will restore balance to the Force,” the child replied. Curious, Obi-Wan noted, how she had dodged Anakin’s question. “It is your destiny, and I…” She hesitated, lonely and sad. “I shall play no part in it.”

Silence.

Then, Anakin exploded. “You’re being ridiculous! I’ve had to listen to this ‘destiny’ claptrap practically my whole life, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that we have no ‘destiny’ beyond what we make for ourselves! And this ‘Chosen One’ chooses to be with the people he loves—end of story!”

The child had begun crying in the middle of Anakin’s rant. Anakin reached out for her again, and this time, she did not resist as he gathered her into his arms.

“Mama…” the child whispered.

“I’m here,” Anakin replied, hugging her tighter.

“Mama…”

“Always.”

“I’m sorry.”

Anakin slumped to the ground.

Obi-Wan gasped. Icy fingers seemed to be clutching at his heart. “What did you do to him?!” he cried, throwing himself to his knees beside Anakin.

The child stepped back slightly; tears continued running in thick rivulets down her cheeks. “Mama is right. An individual’s destiny can change. Nothing is set in stone. But if there is to be balance, he cannot be allowed to remember what has happened here. So, I took the memory from him.”

Obi-Wan gasped again. Hot tears were threatening to spill from his own eyes. “You had no right—! He loved you!”

“It is the only way to ensure his return to your temporal world. He must leave me behind. Now, before it’s too late.” She was speaking the truth. The currents of the Force were swirling like a veritable tornado around them. They were at the vortex of some great and terrible fate.

“And you?” he asked. “You would choose to remain here all alone?” Given everything that had happened, surely this would be worse than death for their child.

“All things die. Even the stars burn out,” she said, seeming to read his thoughts. “But I will not be alone. Everything that Mama is lives within me. And a part of you as well.”

Her eyes lifted in the direction of the monastery’s highest tower, recalling the Father on his deathbed. “The Father was right, you know. I am to be the Mother on Mortis. Just not the Mother of the Force Wielders, as he’d assumed.”

“The ‘Mother’…? What do you—” Of course! A burble of hysterical laughter erupted from Obi-Wan’s mouth. It had been right in front of him the whole time, from the day of her birth onwards. How could he have been so blind?!

Shmi. She was just like Shmi.

 _Your mother had sixty-nine chromosomes instead of the usual forty-six, including an inactive Y sex chromosome. You, while seemingly normal with forty-six chromosomes, were found to possess precisely two-thirds of your mother’s genes. Do you understand what that means, Anakin?_ Your mother spoke the truth. _Asexual reproduction!_

Then the Son—

“He only ever put his mouth on me,” the child said, once again responding to Obi-Wan’s thoughts. How she had grown, to speak with such equanimity!

Obi-Wan swallowed hard. He was grateful that it hadn’t been worse for the child, but that couldn’t have been the easiest way for her to come into knowledge of her own sexuality. He and Anakin had not done a particularly good job as parents in that regard…

“You must go too, Papa. Mama needs you. I can make you forget, if you wish,” the child said.

“Is it necessary?” Obi-Wan asked. The very center of his universe was crumbling, but he was absolutely certain of one thing: Everything that had happened on Mortis—the good and the bad—he didn’t ever want to forget.

The child considered. “It isn’t,” she said.

“Then I choose to remember.” He pulled Anakin into his lap and brushed unruly curls from his forehead. He placed a chaste kiss to his lips. _For as long as they both lived…_

“You must keep what you remember a secret. It will not be easy.”

“I accept that challenge gratefully.”

The child nodded. “Very well. I will open the gate.”

The light of Mortis became very bright, and Obi-Wan felt that light tug the essence of him forwards through a boundless, unfathomable space. A glorious rush, faster and faster, a dizzying spin, tighter and tighter, until abruptly, the wheel of the universe seemed to judder to a halt, and—

As if from a great distance, Obi-Wan heard his beloved child’s voice for one final time: “A mother without a child is a pathetic thing indeed. There may be a time when the Chosen One will live again. Take comfort in that, Papa.”

“Will I ever see you again?” he asked. There was no answer.

“I love you,” he said. Again, there was no answer.

All was blackness.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) _Finally_ , an answer for who/what the child actually is: All of Anakin’s genetic material plus half of Obi-Wan’s. Not even strictly female. She’s also capable of the same sort of asexual reproduction that supposedly produced Anakin, which means—
> 
> (2) The child could, conceivably, give birth to a genetic copy of Anakin someday. Thus, she is the “Mother” of a future second coming of the Chosen One, and yes, I’m stretching the messianic appropriations of the Star Wars PT to their breaking point here. ;-) (Big shout-out to Anesor here who guessed early on that the child would eventually become some sort of mythological mother figure.)
> 
> (3) This story isn’t ending abruptly with the characters’ departure from Mortis either. There are still a few loose ends to tie up, and also Obi-Wan gets to grapple with everything that has happened…


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The return to reality hurts sometimes. (Literally.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story isn’t actually going to continue forever. I promise.

_Crash!_

It was dark. His head was pounding. And he was having a lot of trouble breathing. What in the seven Sith hells—?!

Somewhere nearby, Anakin groaned.

The dead weight on Obi-Wan’s chest lifted. At least now he could breathe more easily.

“What—? Where—?” Obi-Wan tried to sit up…and found himself restrained. There were hands on him, checking for injury.

“No, Master, don’t move. You took a big knock to the head…” Anakin said. He was there as well, crouched beside Obi-Wan in the dark.

Obi-Wan attempted to formulate a response, but his thoughts felt thicker than Alderaanian evergreen honey. He closed his eyes in resignation and allowed his body to go limp.

“Okay, hold on, I’m going to—” Anakin began.

“Master? Is that you?!” Ahsoka shouted. Although she didn’t sound far away, her voice was obstructed by some sort of barrier between her and them.

He was vaguely aware of the creaking sound of several heavy objects being manipulated through the Force, and then suddenly light flooded the space. Obi-Wan winced at the change and blinked rapidly. The concerned faces of Anakin and Ahsoka were hovering above him.

“Help me move him to one of the sleeping berths,” Anakin said.

***

They’d been in the cargo hold when, apparently, a three-meter high pile of storage crates had come crashing down on them. Anakin had reacted quickly enough to save them from being crushed, but the corner of one of the crates had clipped Obi-Wan on the side of the head and knocked him briefly unconscious. The swelling was already nearly the size of a meiloorun fruit.

No wonder Obi-Wan could barely think straight. Nevertheless, he did his level best to focus upon what his companions were saying.

“I was so worried!” Ahsoka exclaimed. “I must’ve nodded off sometime before reversion to realspace at the rendezvous point. Rex’s comm woke me up—and both you and Master Kenobi had disappeared!”

“Sorry, Snips,” Anakin replied. He didn’t actually sound particularly sorry.

“What were you two doing in the cargo hold anyway?” she asked.

Hmm, good question. Obi-Wan himself found that he couldn’t remember. In fact…

Anakin scratched his head. “I—”

There was a chime from the cockpit. “Commander Tano? Come in!” It was Rex.

Anakin hurried forward to the comm unit. Ahsoka was right behind him. Obi-Wan decided to stay where he was, thank you very much.

“This is Jedi Shuttle 634. We hear you, Captain Rex,” Anakin replied.

“Oh, General Skywalker—thank goodness. Commander Tano reported you and General Kenobi missing, and we were getting worried. We lost your shuttle on scopes for a moment there too,” Rex said.

“We had a bit of an accident in the cargo hold. It’s all under control now, but General Kenobi will require medical assistance.”

“Very good, sir. We’ll be ready for you. Head for landing bay #5.”

“Thanks, Rex. We’ll talk again soon. Jedi Shuttle 634 over and out.”

***

The head injury kept Obi-Wan out of the action for two standard days. While he recuperated in a medbay bed, Anakin took charge of their investigation. It was, for all intents and purposes, a wild bantha chase: They were unable to determine the origin of the two-thousand year old distress signal. In fact, there was no sign of sentient life anywhere in this sector of the Chrelythiumn system.

In view of Obi-Wan’s recent incapacitation, Anakin had drafted their report to the Jedi High Council himself. Fortunately, a report that for all intents and purposes had nothing to report was well within even Anakin’s meager writing skills. When he brought it over to the medbay for Obi-Wan to review, Obi-Wan had little substantive to add.

“Ready to submit, Master?” Anakin asked.

“I’d say so,” Obi-Wan replied as he handed the datapad back to Anakin.

Anakin puffed up with pride in a manner Obi-Wan considered unbefitting of the dignity of a Jedi Knight. It made him want to take Anakin down a notch.

“You know, Anakin,” he remarked with faux innocence. “Our shuttle’s cargo hold has officially become a health and safety hazard. Given how quickly you’ve completed this report, surely you have a few hours free to spend tidying up in there and disposing of things you don’t need?”

Well, Anakin did need to bring his hoarding tendencies under control. Obi-Wan figured they were a tangible manifestation of Anakin’s inability to let go, and under other circumstances, Anakin would probably have loudly protested any interference with his personal collection of, ugh, junk. But that junk had actually gotten Obi-Wan hurt—he wasn’t above deploying a double dose of guilt to its best advantage.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll get Ahsoka to help,” Anakin conceded glumly.

“Good.” Obi-Wan suppressed a smirk and leaned back gingerly into the pillow. He regarded Anakin with fond affection. His life mate really was—

Obi-Wan flinched.

“Is something wrong?” Anakin’s brow furrowed with concern.

“No, no, it’s nothing,” Obi-Wan said, trying to sound reassuring. “You don’t recall, by any chance—?” He sighed. “Ah, never mind. You’ll let me know when the new mission comes in?”

“Will do, Master.” Anakin looked about to say more but thought better of it. His mouth shut with an audible click.

Obi-Wan watched Anakin depart, desperately trying to suppress the aching in his heart. The head injury had given him the most amazing, vivid dream. In it, he and Anakin had had a beautiful child. They had decided to quit the Jedi Order to stay with her. Obi-Wan had confessed his love to Anakin. Then they’d even gotten married and pledged their lives to each other! He blushed as he remembered once more the intense eroticism of their many couplings. (His heart wasn’t the only part of him aching at the moment.) It had all seemed so marvelously real…!

But it wasn’t real, Obi-Wan reminded himself sternly. It was only a dream.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new mission and an unexpected twist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, remember Chapter 24?

Their new mission was to help retake the colonial settlement of New Coruscant from the Separatists.

The second moon of Tai’lik had been colonized nearly a decade ago under the auspices of a strategic expansion bill passed by the Republic Senate during the early days of Sheev Palpatine’s Chancellorship. Located at the intersection of two new hyperspace lanes in a remote sector of the Outer Rim otherwise dominated by a rogues’ gallery of trade cartels and tribal warlords, it was hoped that New Coruscant would tip the balance of power there in favor of the Republic. And it had. Unfortunately, tensions between New Coruscant and Tai’lik II’s primitive simian natives, who viewed the settlement as an illegal seizure of their ancestral land, quickly became strained, and shortly after the outbreak of war, the natives allied with the Separatists in a bid to remove the New Coruscanti from the moon altogether.

And so, the Republic had sent Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka, along with two regiments of clone troopers, to Tai’lik II. Approximately ten-thousand, mostly human, civilian colonists remained holed up in their homes and emergency bunkers, and this was making the mission infinitely more complicated—and bloody. There was no other choice but to go block by block, neighborhood by neighborhood, contesting each and every piece of territory.

But after a solid week of pitched urban warfare, they’d arrived at the final push to retake New Coruscant for good. Separatist forces were in retreat, and the Republic planned to capitalize upon its advantage by boxing them into the Udong district. Then, they’d have no choice but to surrender or face annihilation.

Obi-Wan was leading troops closing in from the north; Anakin and his Padawan Ahsoka doing the same in the east. Limited comm contact on a secure channel between commanding officers kept their movements coordinated.

Which was how Obi-Wan found out that Anakin had decided to alter their plan ever so slightly.

“I’m gonna press on ahead. Ahsoka and the 501st can handle things here,” Anakin said.

“No, Anakin, stay with Ahsoka and keep to the plan!” Obi-Wan ordered, his mouth to his comlink but his eyes on a regiment of two dozen battle droids that were seconds from being within blaster range.

“Don’t worry, Master; it’ll be fine.”

“Anakin, I said _no_ —”

Static.

“Sorry, Master Kenobi, he’s moved out of comm range,” Ahsoka said, sounding equal parts amused and resigned.

And then any conversation coming over Obi-Wan’s comlink was momentarily drowned out in a shower of blaster fire. Obi-Wan beheaded the lead battle droid and then spun left, lightsaber slicing through the abdomens of three more. Clone troopers picked off most of the rest of the regiment in short order, with Obi-Wan administering a swift coup de grâce to the final droid left standing.

“I’ll, uhh, never surrender! I guess…?” the droid declared in its high-pitched, croaky voice as it fell, defeated, to the ground.

Obi-Wan kicked the droid’s body aside and moved to an out-of-the-way area as he shouted once more into his comlink. “Anakin, come in! Anakin!”

“Master Skywalker is still out of range!” Ahsoka chirped brightly. “But I think— Hey, waitaminute, there’s someone—”

Obi-Wan could hear the snap-hiss of twin lightsabers igniting. Ahsoka was sprinting forward to engage some unspecified adversary. There was a high-pitched shriek.

“Whoops, false alarm,” Ahsoka said and deactivated her weapons. “Hey, you know you shouldn’t be outside, right?” The last seemed to be directed at some new, as of yet unspecified interlocutor.

“Mama! Where’s my Mama?!”

Obi-Wan’s blood ran cold. The terrified, panicked voice of a child. A voice he’d come to know even better than his own.

“I don’t know where your Mama is, little one,” Ahsoka was saying, “but you can’t be outside. C’mon—”

“I want Mama—!”

“Umm…your Mama can’t be here right now. But don’t worry—” Rustling. Then movement. A door was being kicked in. The child’s sobbing and wailing was still faintly audible over Ahsoka’s comlink.

“This is Commander Tano,” Ahsoka spoke directly into her comlink again. Her signal was beginning to fade in and out, but the gist was clear enough. “I need an emergency evac at 41.452214, -74.419868. Civilian, human female, approximately three to four years old, unaccompanied.”

“Listen, little one—” Ahsoka was addressing the child.

“Where’s Mama? I want my Mama!!” the child was crying.

“Shhh, shhh. Don’t worry. We’ll find your Mama…”

There was a bleep. “Commander Tano, emergency evac will not be possible until 1400 hours. Please secure the civilian at your current location.”

Ahsoka groaned. That was six hours away. She would not be able to stay, and Obi-Wan knew it too.

“Mama! Mama! _Mama!!_ ” The child’s voice rose to a hysterical shriek.

“ _Listen_ , little one. You have to stop crying. Can you do that for me? Your Mama wouldn’t want to you cry,” Ahsoka cajoled.

Static.

“Ahsoka?! Ahsoka?! Come in!!” Obi-Wan shouted into his comlink. Wherever she had gone with the child was causing her comm signal to break up.

More static. Then, finally—

“—Master Kenobi. Hold on…”

Faint sounds of scuffling movement. The child’s crying had subsided into hiccups and sniffles.

Static again.

“Ahsoka?! Anakin?! Are either of you reading me?!” Obi-Wan tried yet again, beyond desperate. 

“There. That’s a good little girl,” Ahsoka could be heard saying gently. “You’re a good little girl, aren’t you? Yes, that’s right. What I need you to do right now is to be very quiet. Can you do that for me? Hide and keep quiet. Like a game of hide and seek. You can’t tell anyone you’re here—”

—and Ahsoka’s comm signal was gone completely.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) If you’re thinking that “New Coruscant” sounds a bit like a Star Wars version of [illegal Israeli settlements in the West Bank](http://www.aljazeera.com/news/2017/01/house-condemns-resolution-israeli-settlements-170106080417292.html), you would be… _right_. This is exactly the sort of dickish policy Palpatine would get behind.


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan realizes that it wasn’t a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Obi-Wan… :-(

“She wouldn’t tell me her name,” Ahsoka said.

No, that she wouldn’t have done, Obi-Wan thought. “And no one has reported any missing children matching her description?” he asked instead.

“Not thus far. But the civilian death toll is still rising. It could be that the rest of her family had already been killed.”

“Hmm,” Obi-Wan murmured distractedly.

His eyes were fixated on the underground storage larder open at his feet. Like the modest, middle class residence it served, it had presumably been emptied ahead of the Separatist takeover of New Coruscant. And it was probably a good place to hide a child, given the fighting on the streets.

But the larder was dark and cold and so small that even a human child would not be able to stand upright once inside. No wonder she had been nearly catatonic with terror.

Obi-Wan remembered like it were yesterday. He remembered how the child—his and Anakin’s precious child—had been curled up in a fetal position behind a boulder, weeping silently and rocking back and forth in abject fear. Her soft hair had been tangled; her white dress had been stained and torn. He remembered how she had refused to move even when she saw her Papa, how he’d had to take her into his arms…

He’d believed those two months on Mortis had been merely a dream, a delusion induced by that blow to his head. But when all ordinary explanations had been eliminated, and only the extraordinary was left— Yes, Obi-Wan had been lying, lying flagrantly, to himself.

“What did the child look like?” he asked.

Ahsoka shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. Like you and Master Skywalker, I suppose. Humans all look more or less the same to me.”

He couldn’t blame her lack of specificity. He sometimes struggled to tell individual Togruta apart as well. And the child _did_ look like them.

“I shouldn’t have left her alone like that, Master—” Ahsoka began, her distress evident.

“No, Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan interrupted, his tone reassuring, “you made the right call. One uninjured, unaccompanied child did not supersede your duty to assist in the liberation of the city. You had no way of knowing, and no reason to expect, that she would not be here upon your return.”

It was nothing less than the truth.

“But still—!”

Obi-Wan’s comlink bleeped. “Hey, Master!” It was Anakin, crystal clear now that orbital communications satellites were functioning again. “Where are you, anyway? You’re missing out on all the fun!”

Obi-Wan sighed. Anakin’s “bold” decision to press on ahead of his regiment during the fighting yesterday had paid off. He’d singlehandedly wiped out a third of the droid army. By the time the 501st and 212th regiments had converged onto the Udong district, their besieged enemies were all but ready to surrender. As a consequence, Anakin was being feted as the Savior of New Coruscant.

“Just tying up some loose ends with Ahsoka. We’ll be finished shortly,” Obi-Wan said into his comlink.

“Cool. See you soon!” Anakin disconnected.

“Why don’t you join your Master at the festivities?” Obi-Wan suggested to Ahsoka. “I can handle things from here.”

“Yes, Master Kenobi.” Ahsoka favored him with a quick bow before departing. Obi-Wan knew she would enjoy the opportunity to unwind. Any lingering guilt about the missing child would pass, in time.

As for him…

He needed to wrap his head around what he had discovered. It wasn’t just that the child was real—and that was shocking enough. It was that she evidently had the power to travel back and forth through the vastness of space and time.

In the silence of the empty house, Obi-Wan replayed the audio recording of the child’s tearful, panicked voice saved from Ahsoka’s comlink.

_Where’s Mama? I want my Mama!!_

Unmistakable. There could be no doubt whatsoever. Obi-Wan’s heart was clenched tight as a fist in his chest. He wanted to laugh _and_ cry.

They hadn’t known. Of course not. No one believed such things were even possible! And yet. When she’d disappeared that day down in the gorge, they hadn’t been able to get a fix on her location using the Force. Turned out they hadn’t been able to do that because she was hiding in a larder on faraway Tai’lik II! Had she seen the bombs bursting overhead, the battle droids, the blaster fire?

Obi-Wan knew she hadn’t seen Anakin, but that was a near thing. She had been looking for him, wanting his comfort, his reassurance. If he hadn’t run off ahead—

Anakin, who didn’t remember the child. Obi-Wan shuddered. She said that the Son had shown her Anakin’s future and that she wasn’t a part of it. Obi-Wan had assumed that had been via Force precognition. But what if she’d actually been a _literal_ witness to whatever the future held for him…?

What had she seen? What sort of stakes would justify purging her own Mama’s memory of her and sending him back in time so that there wasn’t even a suspicious gap to contend with?

He shuddered again. And how many times had she moved between temporal worlds? He’d speculated idly on occasion about the child’s imaginary friends. Sometimes, their stories seemed too specific to be pure child’s fantasy. Could those friends have actually been real children after all? Younglings she’d met while traveling into the future? Younglings she could have influenced?! No wonder the Father had forbidden those friends…!

Obi-Wan let the hatch to the storage larder close with a resounding thud. There were no further answers to be had in this house. Time to head back to the GAR surface camp.

Stars above, he thought as he walked, he wished he could discuss this with Anakin! He wasn’t certain, however, that seeing Anakin in his current chaotic state of mind was a good idea.

If he did, he might let something slip.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two victory celebrations. Two awkward moments for Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan stopped off at the victory celebration being held in Central Square pay his respects to the New Coruscanti leadership. He didn’t want to, really, but it was his duty.

Ahsoka was already there and probably had been for some time. She was surrounded by an admiring throng of young courtiers. By the expansive gestures she was making, Obi-Wan assumed she was giving her enthralled audience a colorful, blow-by-blow account of yesterday’s battle. He was happy to leave her to it.

The man of the hour, however, did not appear to be present. Obi-Wan thought this was rather strange. Although Anakin hid it well from his fellow Jedi behind a veil of false humility, Obi-Wan knew Anakin secretly adored the adulation of the masses; they gave him the respect he felt he didn’t receive from the Council.

He was about to head over to interrupt Ahsoka to inquire as to Anakin’s whereabouts when he was intercepted by Tai’lik II’s governor. He was a handsome human male with a golden-brown complexion and guileless gray eyes—all the better to conceal the rot within, Obi-Wan reflected.

“General Kenobi! We are honored by your presence.”

Obi-Wan bowed respectfully.

“Please. We mustn’t stand on formality,” the governor said as he threw an overly familiar arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “If not for the timely intervention of your Jedi Order, the city would have been overrun by those,” he made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, “barbaric _creatures_.”

“We but live to serve,” Obi-Wan demurred. It wasn’t worth pointing out that it had been the clones, not the Jedi, who had done most of the fighting—and the native Tai’liki who had done most of the dying. Oh, how he loathed politicians!

“And serve us well you have!” the governor declared. He pulled Obi-Wan closer as his tone became conspiratorial. “Preliminary plans are already being put in place to build additional settlements in the remaining quadrants. Of course, we will have to clear the forests first, but Tai’lik wood is very much in demand in the Core.”

“What of the Tai’liki?” Obi-Wan asked, forcibly preventing himself from trying to pull away from the governor. _What, indeed._

“Oh, we’ve got some land set aside for them at the northern pole. That should keep them well out of our hair. And fortunately, all of the most intransigent individuals—you know, the ones who were making all the hoots and howls about ancestral land, sacred sites, burial trees, and whatnot—have been exterminated or imprisoned.”

Obi-Wan coughed politely. “Surely mercy would not be out of place, given the circumstances?”

“Whatever for? We won, and the Tai’liki _are_ Separatist traitors. They deserve their fate.”

“As you say.” Obi-Wan had had enough of this distasteful excuse for a human being. He wriggled out from under the man’s arm. “If you will forgive me, I find that I’ve yet to fully recover from yesterday’s exertions. I fear I must turn in early this evening.”

“How thoughtless of me. Of course, of course.” The governor gave Obi-Wan’s back a comradely slap. “Please make use of my personal transport. We cannot have the great Jedi Master walking back to camp!”

***

The GAR base camp was situated just outside the fortified walls of New Coruscant, orderly rows of armorweave tents stretching out for half a kilometer in all directions.

Save for the troopers stationed at the entrance who checked his identification as he debarked from the governor’s transport, Obi-Wan noticed immediately that the base appeared to be mostly deserted. Where was everybody?

The vast majority of the clones, it quickly became apparent, had gathered in the giant mess hall tent for their own victory celebration.

The last thing Obi-Wan wanted was another party. More than anything, he wanted the bedroll in his personal tent. His impromptu chat with the governor had been demoralizing. He remembered the despairing slump of the Tai’liki leader’s simian shoulders as she had been forced to surrender: The GAR Strategic and Statistical Services Division estimated that over ninety percent of the Tai’liki had perished—from disease, violence, and suicide—within the past decade alone. It amounted to state-sponsored genocide, and she had known it.

So did Obi-Wan. The feeling that he was fighting the wrong battles, and on the wrong side, was stronger than it ever had been before.

A roaring cheer erupted from the direction of the mess hall tent, interrupting his ruminations. In spite of his exhaustion and desire for solitude, Obi-Wan found himself poking his nose in to see what all the fuss was about.

Well, now he knew where Anakin had gone.

It was a sabacc tournament—one where the stakes were articles of clothing instead of credit chits. And given the state of undress of many of the clones closest to the action, it had been going on for quite awhile.

At the moment, Anakin and Rex were in the middle of a sudden death match up duel. Anakin appeared worse off than Rex: Whereas Rex was missing only his boots and one sock, Anakin was down to his last tunic and pants. The two men revealed their hands. The crowd went wild. Anakin shrugged, stood, removed his tunic, and handed it over to Rex.

Rex whooped as he waved the tunic high over his head like a flag. The crowd cheered even louder. Clones who had been making side bets on the outcome exchanged credits.

“Look at those girly nipples!” another clone teased Anakin, pinching his chest while Rex continued his victory dance. “You even got a cock down there?”

“Too bad you’re not man enough to find out!” Anakin shot back, to hearty laughter, and swiveled his hips provocatively.

All those unclothed, athletic male bodies made for an outwardly bawdy, debauched scene, but in reality it was innocent fun. The clones were comfortable with casual nudity—another clone’s body was nothing any clone hadn’t seen countless times—and were as affectionate and curious as children where their beloved General Skywalker was concerned.

Anakin’s nipples were significantly larger and darker than the clones’. Obi-Wan remembered how they’d swelled and thickened when he was nursing, how sweet they’d tasted in his own mouth when making love—

Arousal pooled like liquid fire in Obi-Wan’s groin. He wouldn’t be able to hide his erection if someone spotted him. Not good. Definitely not good.

The game was starting up again, with Anakin challenging Rex to a rematch. Obi-Wan decided to beat a hasty retreat to his personal tent before Anakin lost his pants. No need to soil his own.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) The many historical analogues to the situation on Tai’lik II should be obvious, I hope.


	48. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan’s frustrations, political and otherwise, lead him to make a momentous decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexual content. Not that anybody needs the warning at this stage.

Obi-Wan made it back to his tent without being spotted or soiling his pants, but the latter was a very near thing. By the time he was hurriedly buttoning the armorweave flaps shut behind him, his frustrations were about ready to boil over.

Before Mortis, he’d never had much in the way of a libido. Oh, certainly, he had understood human attraction and sexual desire on an intellectual level; it was just that he hadn’t experienced much of it himself. Other beings hadn’t interested him, and his own right hand provided sufficient release on the rare occasions he needed it. Even then, he’d been able to go months, years at a stretch, without masturbating.

No more. Anakin had changed all that. Now Obi-Wan ached for him _constantly_.

And his many pent up frustrations with the politics of Tai’lik II only seemed to intensify the sexual frustration.

He was rid of his Jedi uniform in an instant. Naked, he slid into the bedroll with a relieved groan. His erection was already hot and throbbing, leaking so copiously that the foreskin made obscene, squelching noises as he pumped rapidly up and down the shaft. It took less than a minute altogether to bring himself off, and he had to clap his hand hard over his mouth so that no one would hear him scream as he came.

Afterwards, he lay there, unmoving, soaking in the afterglow. His bedroll was damp with sweat, and his belly was coated with semen. Although sheer, animal desperation no longer gripped him, it had done little to relieve the deeper yearning for intimacy. Absentmindedly, he fondled his softening penis with one hand while his other caressed the wrinkled pucker of his anus. His eyes drifted shut. The many times he and Anakin had made love replayed like a holoproj in his mind.

The conception of their child. Anakin’s inexplicable enthusiasm for sex with him. Such sweet kisses. Thrusting for the first time into wet, welcoming heat—

After Anakin had accepted his proposal. The wildness and hedonistic abandon of their intercourse. How overwhelmingly joyful it had been, loving and knowing he was loved in return—

Their wedding night. Anakin’s gentleness and concern for his comfort. The devastating pleasure of being penetrated by another man’s penis, of surrendering himself to the pounding rhythm of his life mate—

Eventually, Obi-Wan hardened and orgasmed a second time, bucking and writhing. Tears were trickling out of the sides of his eyes.

The child hadn’t been kidding when she’d told him this wouldn’t be easy.

Sighing, Obi-Wan crawled out of his bedroll. Best to let it air a bit, he decided, given all the sweating and, err, spurting he’d been doing. He located the GAR standard-issue pack of toiletries and ruefully began cleaning himself up with a pre-moistened sanitary wipe.

The pack also came with a small hand mirror. Obi-Wan held it up to his face.

It was the first time Obi-Wan had paused to look at himself in a mirror since their return from Mortis. He was shocked by what he saw: How young he looked! And, well, _handsome_. Surely it hadn’t been that way before— No, that was ridiculous. He’d merely become accustomed to looking old, and if he were honest with himself, he’d _liked_ it.

But now…

With a jolt, he remembered all of the unbelievable things Anakin had been saying to him.

_Do you know how gorgeous you are? I’ve always thought so…_

_Do you realize how good it feels to be with you? It’s incredible. Better than anyone…_

_You could have any girl—hells, any boy!—you want…_

For the first time in his not inconsiderable life, he thought he might actually believe those words. He was indeed a comely young man. He tried smiling. The face in the mirror smiled tentatively back at him. Yes, definitely.

And. And! Anakin found him attractive. Said he always had. Which meant that, even though he did not remember those astonishing months on Mortis or how he had wanted to stay there forever with Obi-Wan and the child, he still did.

He. Still. Did.

With a dizzying rush, all of Obi-Wan’s fondest fantasies about a happy family life in some quiet corner of the galaxy returned. Qui-Gon’s apparition had been right: The Jedi should never have allowed themselves to be drawn into war, and the longer they fought, the further they strayed from the path of true righteousness. This mission on Tai’lik II only served to drive that fact home all the more forcefully. His love for Anakin, his marriage to him— he was already compromised, and he didn’t want to be doing this anymore. Okay, maybe he could never tell Anakin about their child. That was fine; he could live with that. He just knew that he wanted his life mate back.

He _would_ win him back. Tonight.

He would convince Anakin to leave the Order with him. Then they would be able to love each other openly, freely. He would explain Anakin’s unique physiology to him again. They would have more children.

With newfound resolve, Obi-Wan got dressed and set out from his personal tent and into the balmy Tai’liki evening. The air was alive with the sounds of the forest beyond base camp, but he did not hear them. He was a man on a mission.

He was going to seduce one Anakin Skywalker.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	49. Chapter 49

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan has a plan to seduce Anakin. There is no chance it won’t succeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, some of you have been expecting this, and the rest of you are probably gonna hate me…
> 
> Hang tight. It ain’t over till it’s over!

Obi-Wan knew without needing to check that Anakin was no longer playing strip-sabacc in the mess hall tent. The game continued, and the raucous roars and cheers of the clones could be heard from afar, but the bright tingle of open mischief Anakin had been projecting into the Force was no longer there.

Anakin, it seemed, had retired to his own personal tent. That meant Anakin would be alone, and Obi-Wan would have his undivided attention. All the better to seduce him, Obi-Wan thought eagerly.

He had a plan. There was no chance it wouldn’t succeed because no one knew Anakin better than Obi-Wan. Directness would appeal to him; passion would disarm him; desire would inflame him; and a declaration of unconditional love would vanquish every possible objection. Every fiber of Obi-Wan’s being was vibrating with nervousness and anticipation. He was going to have his life mate back again!

Anakin’s tent was merely one of many amid a sea of identical tents dyed in 501st-style blue. No Jedi worth his lightsaber would accept richer accommodation than the lowliest of his clone troopers, and Anakin was no exception. The only feature that distinguished it from the others was the Jedi Order’s insignia painted over the entrance.

Moreover, he could hear Anakin’s voice from within. He was talking to someone. Disappointment washed through Obi-Wan. Did he have a guest?

“—finished, we should be planetside on Coruscant within the week,” Anakin was saying.

“Oh, Ani, that’s _wonderful_ ,” the voice of his unseen interlocutor replied. “I’ve missed you.”

Obi-Wan recognized that light, feminine voice. Not to mention that there was only one being in the galaxy who still referred to Anakin as “Ani.” It was Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo. He dared a peek through the half-closed flap of the tent. Anakin was seated crosslegged, facing away from the entrance, and looking down at a portable holoprojector pod held in the palm of his upraised hand.

It was past midnight on Coruscant. Why in the world was Anakin comming Amidala at such unsocial hours? Her blue-tinged holo appeared dressed for bed, not for affairs of state. Hesitantly, Obi-Wan leaned in closer.

Anakin, engrossed in his conversation with Amidala, was not yet cognizant of Obi-Wan’s presence. “You know, Padmé, I’ve been thinking,” he said. “Maybe you should have the IUD taken out.”

“IUD”…? _What the…?!_

Amidala, to her credit, looked surprised as well. “But Ani! You were so adamant about not having children. Why the sudden change of heart?”

“I don’t know. It’s just— It’s just that— I have this feeling. That I have— No, that I’m _going_ to have a daughter.”

Obi-Wan was stunned, frozen. The earth was tilting beneath his feet. He didn’t know what to think.

“Hmm.” There was a long pause while Amidala seemed to be digesting Anakin’s revelation. “This is a big decision. Why don’t we discuss it after you’re home? You know a pregnancy would make it all the more difficult to keep our marriage a secret.”

Obi-Wan stumbled backwards, and before he was even consciously aware of having moved, he was ten meters distant from Anakin’s tent. He was lightheaded. He couldn’t breathe. He felt like someone had rammed a vibroblade straight through his gut. Or his heart. _He had to get away from here—!_

He didn’t quite remember what happened after that, but the next time he took note of his surroundings, Obi-Wan found that he had somehow made his way back to his own tent. Where, at that very moment, he was lying on his stomach, buried beneath the thick blankets of his bedroll, his pillow soaked with tears.

Married. Anakin was married. To Senator Padmé Amidala. They’d kept it secret from everyone.

How long? When did they get married? Prior to their mission to Tai’lik II, certainly, and prior to the mission that had taken them to Mortis as well. Possibly prior, even, to the outbreak of the war.

That meant Anakin was already married the first time he lay with Obi-Wan and during the birth of their child. He was already married to Amidala when he agreed to marry Obi-Wan. Their joy had been based on a lie. All of it. Anakin had been betraying _both_ of his families the whole time. What was _wrong_ with him?!

“Why, Anakin?” Obi-Wan whimpered into the empty darkness of the tent, fresh tears welling in his eyes. “Why?!”

On some level, Obi-Wan had always known. Hadn’t he? But he’d loved Anakin so much that he’d turned a blind eye to the obvious. Again and again and again. Because, fundamentally, he was selfish—attached—and he didn’t want to lose him.

And the worst thing was, he still wanted Anakin, desperately, more now than ever. He wanted to punch him in his beautiful face and make him cry. He wanted to yell and scream and demand an explanation. He wanted to be kissed and caressed and reassured that there was nothing to worry about and everything would be all right. He wanted to hold and be held so very tightly in Anakin’s arms until the universe fell away and only the two of them were left. Yes, he wanted that most of all. In fact, if he just closed his eyes, it was like his beloved was standing right there at his side—

“Master?”

It was Anakin. Outside Obi-Wan’s tent.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) IUD = intrauterine device. For some reason, I find it easier to imagine the Star Wars universe doing contraception mechanically/surgically with an IUD as opposed to medically/orally with pills.
> 
> (2) In the ROTS novelization, Anakin thinks that Padmé is pregnant with a girl. (Padmé disagrees and tells him _she_ thinks it’s a boy. Why neither of them realizes she has twins is one of those great Star Wars mysteries.) A lot of fanfiction writers have latched onto this tidbit over the years and included it in their writing. My slightly AU variation here, also a sly reference to the child left behind on Mortis, is an homage to them.


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan tells Anakin to go away. Anakin does not go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst alert.

“Go away.”

Obi-Wan’s face was buried deeply in his pillow, and his blankets were pulled tightly over his head. Nevertheless, he knew Anakin could her him loud and clear.

Typically, Anakin ignored him, barging right into Obi-Wan’s tent to riffle through his kit. A hiss of annoyance. The sound of a light being flicked on.

“Rex is holding my tunics hostage. I need to borrow one,” he said by way of explanation. Not particularly apologetic, not bothering a glance in Obi-Wan’s direction.

“Oh?” Resigned, Obi-Wan pushed himself up onto one elbow and glared blaster bolts into the spot between Anakin’s bare shoulder blades. “I thought he won them fair and square.”

“What? No, he— Ah-ha!” Anakin interrupted himself, triumphant, as he pulled a clean undertunic out from a storage chest.

Anakin spun around. Obi-Wan ducked hastily back into his bedroll. Too late. Anakin had undoubtedly seen his red eyes and puffy cheeks.

“Master? Is something the matter?” Anakin sat down next to Obi-Wan. The genuine concern, even sweetness, in Anakin’s voice made Obi-Wan wish he could just fall on his lightsaber and die.

Obi-Wan didn’t trust himself to speak. It hurt too damn much. He turned onto his side, away from Anakin, and tried to make himself look as small as possible.

“ _Mas_ -ter—” Anakin began, chiding. But then his nostrils flared. “Hey, have you been entertaining in here?”

Oh, dearest stars above, he must be smelling the semen from earlier. _That_ realization compelled Obi-Wan to find his voice. “No, just taking a little nap.” He used Anakin’s favorite euphemism for masturbation. “And you’re interrupting. Go away.”

There. That should be unequivocal.

Or, well, it would have been an effective dismissal if his vocal cords hadn’t cracked on “away” so that the word came out of his mouth less like a summary dismissal and more like a sob.

Suddenly, Obi-Wan wasn’t alone under the covers. Anakin’s warm, heavy body curled against his back. An arm wrapped around his chest; a gentle exhalation of breath ruffled the downy hairs on the nape of his neck. Their bare feet tangled together.

“What’s wrong? It’s okay, Master. You can tell me,” Anakin murmured.

Obi-Wan began to tremble. The comfort of Anakin’s weight against him. The musky smell of sex. And close, so close. They were like they had been on Mortis. His penis thickened automatically with interest. Was Anakin already wet between his legs? He used to… And he would always… He could…he could still—

“Shhh, shhh. You need to relax. Would you like some help falling asleep?” Anakin’s hand drifted downward, rubbing soothing circles into Obi-Wan’s belly. That gesture too was a question. An invitation—

Yes, he could still do it. He could still seduce him. This was the perfect opportunity. All he had to do was roll over and kiss, embrace. He knew exactly how to make Anakin feel good, and he also knew that Anakin would not resist, that Anakin wanted Obi-Wan—craved Obi-Wan—as much as Obi-Wan craved Anakin. Yes, Obi-Wan thought, right now, I could take him, have him, _make him mine again_ …

NO!

How would Amidala feel if she knew what her life mate was doing offplanet with his former Master? Anakin might say later that he was just giving his sexually repressed friend a bit of much needed release, that this sort of activity was only to be expected given the pressures of the battlefield, but… But. Surely she would hurt no less from the revelation than Obi-Wan was hurting now.

He recoiled with disgust from his own selfishness. To take Anakin would be to take him away from Amidala—and it was she, not Obi-Wan, who had the prior claim. No, he would not hurt her by tempting Anakin into adultery.

Besides, he’d already done that once already. He had done it in ignorance, it was true, but he’d done it nonetheless. What must have been going through Anakin’s head when he’d fallen to his knees and proposed? They’d never know. But Obi-Wan knew the outcome: Anakin had chosen to renounce the Jedi Order and stay on Mortis, even after he’d learned that the remainder of his life would be reckoned in mere months. He had _not_ chosen to return to Amidala. Instead, he had chosen Obi-Wan and their child.

Obi-Wan remembered their child at the end, weeping. _Mama, I’m sorry._ Had she known? _I can make you forget, if you wish_. But he hadn’t wanted to forget a thing. And now he knew the truth:

Anakin was no longer his to claim.

Obi-Wan rolled over to face the man with whom he had partaken of the marriage cup. He gazed long and hard into Anakin’s blue eyes, searching for the slightest guile, deceit, or cruelty. He saw none.

The corner of Anakin’s lip quirked upward questioningly.

Obi-Wan sighed.

“This mission on Tai’lik II has upset me profoundly,” he admitted at last.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	51. Chapter 51

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion of the mission on Tai’lik II. Also, Obi-Wan comes to his own conclusions about the future.

“Why? It was an easy victory.”

“I’m not impugning your heroism,” Obi-Wan replied, patting Anakin reassuringly on the cheek. The feel of that soft skin against his fingers threatened to bring fresh tears to his eyes. “It’s just… We should never have fought the Tai’liki in the first place.”

“What?! But the hyperspace lanes were blockaded. Loyal Republic systems throughout the sector were starving. The Tai’liki are just primitive savages.” Anakin sounded disbelieving.

Obi-Wan sighed. “The Tai’liki would never have allied with the Separatists were it not for the pressures from New Coruscant. When I was your age, Anakin, worlds like Tai’lik II were encouraged to join the Republic as member states, not subjected to colonial rule.”

Did he dare say the rest? That he was questioning the necessity of war and his role in it? That he was considering resigning from the Jedi Order, and that, given Anakin’s secret marriage, maybe Anakin would like to join him in exile? A quiet existence far from any fighting appealed to Obi-Wan, but he didn’t want to be parted from his life mate. And even if they couldn’t be lovers, perhaps they could remain friends…

“Given the circumstances, I’m not sure I want to keep fighting,” Obi-Wan said.

“Don’t be _ridiculous_ —” Anakin began, scoffing.

“Umm…Masters?” a tentative voice from outside the tent interrupted. Both Anakin and Obi-Wan jumped out of the bedroll hastily.

It was Ahsoka. At his invitation, she entered Obi-Wan’s tent. She was still in the same ceremonial dress she had been wearing during the celebration in Center Square. In one hand, she was holding a large, eight-lobed Tai’lik tree leaf. In her other hand was a medical scanner.

“I’m sorry about the late hour, but there’s something I think you need to see,” she said.

Without any further explanation, she pressed the medical scanner against the leaf. It beeped. “Confirmed Asymptomatic Carrier: Earl’s Disease. Recommendation: Quarantine,” the scanner’s toneless, electronic voice reported.

Obi-Wan’s gut tightened. Earl’s Disease was a fast-mutating virus, highly contagious and incurable. For most beings in the galaxy who were susceptible, it was mere inconvenience: a week of low-grade fever, chills, and muscle aches. But on isolated worlds populated by beings with naïve immune systems, Earl’s Disease was deadly. Nine years ago, an epidemic of Earl’s Disease had ravaged Tai’lik II, reducing the native population by nearly eighty percent. The disease vector had never been determined.

But _trees_ should not become randomly infected with Earl’s Disease. Unless—

The nomadic Tai’liki used the tree leaves for their nest bedding. _No_ —

“The settlers infected the Tai’lik trees with Earl’s Disease,” Ahsoka said, confirming Obi-Wan’s worst suspicions. “I actually heard them _boasting_ about it! Masters, what should we do?”

“I don’t believe it,” Anakin spluttered.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and said, “I’ll tell you what we are going to do…”

***

They never _were_ able to prove that New Coruscant’s governor had authorized what became known as the Tai’lik Tree Conspiracy, but he was ultimately forced to resign in disgrace. And thanks to an investigation spearheaded by Anakin and his Padawan Ahsoka, forty three lesser officials were convicted of crimes against the Tai’liki and imprisoned.

“That governor should have been executed in front of his family,” Anakin fumed.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “Two wrongs don’t make a right,” he said. “And we must consider the larger picture, such as how Republic policy itself inflamed tensions.”

Anakin made a rude noise.

“Look! They’re starting the voting now!” Ahsoka exclaimed.

Obi-Wan and Anakin put their disagreements aside and turned their attention to their view of the Galactic Senate Rotunda. After the conspiracy on Tai’lik II had come to light, Senator Amidala had introduced a bill to outlaw strategic expansion settlements. Popular outrage at what had amounted to genocide of the Tai’liki had ensured that the bill was debated and brought to a vote.

In the end, Amidala’s bill was defeated. Still, it was a near thing.

“I don’t get it!” Ahsoka wailed as they departed the Senate building. “Can’t they see how this just encourages settlers to behave badly again in the future?!”

“Unfortunately, many beings believe that our being at war changes the rules,” Amidala said, her senatorial garments rustling softly as they walked. “Don’t be discouraged, Ahsoka. We’re playing a long game here, and it’s one we’re winning. Ten years ago, that strategic expansion bill was passed with seventy-eight percent of Senators in favor. Today, forty-eight percent of the votes were with us.”

“I know how you feel, Snips. The Senate just gets in the way of what ought to be done a lot of the time,” Anakin said.

“Democracy is messy, but it’s the best we have,” Amidala said reprovingly.

Obi-Wan did not miss the exchange of glances between her and Anakin, nor did he miss the way Anakin laid a hand on her shoulder and she, subtly, leaned into his touch. Idly, Obi-Wan wondered if they were actively trying to have children.

He remembered his and Anakin’s beautiful child, alone on Mortis, with a pang of sorrow. _Had she known?_ he asked himself yet again.

“Democracy is what we’re fighting for,” Anakin conceded.

“Right. And if it hadn’t been for the Jedi, we would never have known what had occurred on Tai’lik II,” Amidala concluded.

Yes, Obi-Wan thought, Anakin and Senator Amidala were good for each other and for the Republic. She did important work as a Senator, he as a Jedi Knight. There was nothing to be gained from their public humiliation. So, Obi-Wan would keep the secret of their marriage—for the greater good.

And as long as his life mate wanted to continue the fight, he would do likewise.

“The universe,” Obi-Wan interjected, “does not automatically bend toward justice. Nor, equally, is any doom preordained. There is only the future we aspire to and the choices we make, each and every day, for better and for worse.”

“I understand, Master,” Ahsoka said politely.

Did she? Did _he_? Ah well. For now, it would just have to do.

 

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Okay, this chapter is really political, and some of you here just for the obikin may be quite taken aback. However, I think Obi-Wan’s personal relationship to Anakin is inextricable from politics, and I like the idea that he keeps mum about Anakin’s marriage to Padmé because he thinks that, as a couple, they are an asset to the Republic.
> 
> (2) Don’t worry, though. I’ve still got a bit more exploration of Obi-Wan’s heart left to do in an epilogue (of sorts). Stay tuned. ;-)


	52. Chapter 52

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue (sort of).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is: the final chapter! It’s mystical and emotional and definitely _not_ a storybook happy ending. (You may wish to take that as a warning.)

_Three Years Later_

He still thought about Tai’lik II sometimes. Anakin had done much to deliver justice to its inhabitants, and peace _had_ come to the forest moon eventually…but only after most of the Tai’liki were dead and gone.

Obi-Wan, too, had found peace in his remote little corner of Tatooine’s Jundland Wastes…but only after most of the Jedi—not to mention democracy itself—were dead and gone. Anakin had had quite a lot to do with that development as well.

Of course, Anakin himself was gone, consigned to fiery death on the lava sands of Mustafar. Obi-Wan had had quite a lot to do with that.

He had learned that there can be balance in death. He’d witnessed that on Mortis with the passing of the Daughter _and_ the Son. Ultimately, however, the child had been wrong. The Chosen One had not brought balance to the Force; the galaxy had fallen into darkness. Despite their best intentions, destiny had been altered. Does she know her Mama is dead? Does she grieve for him?

They’d been so happy once. Such light and love and pleasure. If only they could have stayed on Mortis. If only— No, that way lies madness.

If only he could lose himself in the sibilant hiss of the wind through grains of sand, in the lowing of the wild bantha herds, in the roar of distant krayt dragons. If only the hot suns would bake his memories into dust.

The nights were the worst. Every night, he relived the nightmare.

Anakin, drowning in the dark side, pacing, ready to pounce. “You never understood, Obi-Wan,” he had accused. “You never cared about me!”

Obi-Wan had replied with what he’d long kept hidden deep within his heart: “You’re wrong. I pledged my life to you. We were going to grow old together. I loved you!”

But the Sith had clouded Anakin’s mind; he could no longer feel the truth of Obi-Wan’s words. “Liar!” Anakin had roared as he ignited his lightsaber.

“No,” Obi-Wan had said, despairing, igniting his own. “It’s the truth. You’ve only forgotten.”

And then they had fought, and Anakin had burned.

This time, though, Obi-Wan did not look away. As the flames leapt higher, they changed color, from orange to purple. They twisted and danced and coalesced—

—and a beautiful woman limned in purple fire stood before Obi-Wan. She was tall and slender and dressed entirely in white. Her hair was unbound, and one of her hands rested protectively over her belly. _She had Anakin’s eyes_.

“Papa,” she said.

Her fire took flight and poured into him. It was agony.

Obi-Wan awoke with a hoarse shout, reaching automatically for his lightsaber. His fist closed over something hard and cool. It was not a lightsaber.

It was a plain, unadorned ceramic cup.

Half-blinded by tears, Obi-Wan stumbled out of bed and through his front door, into the chilly, predawn desert air. He fell to his knees before the nearest rocky outcropping, picked up the heaviest loose stone he could lift, and brought it down hard. It hit the rough ground with a sharp crack.

The cup remained right where Obi-Wan had placed it, unmolested.

He bawled unashamedly to the heavens. All the anger, pain, sadness, and regret poured out of him with his tears as he rocked back and forth. He’d been telling himself that he’d lost everything. But it hadn’t been true.

No marriage could be annulled for as long as the couple’s cup was intact. He’d asked the child to keep it safe for them—and she had. Something, this tiny, humble, _precious_ thing, had remained.

With unsteady, trembling fingers, Obi-Wan picked up the cup, turning it over and over in his hands, re-acquainting himself with every ripple in the ceramic, every imperfection in the glaze. He lifted it to his nose and inhaled. A faint fragrance of sweet milk lingered.

Through the Force, he could hear the child’s delighted laughter. He could smell the wildflowers. He could feel soft lips and a playful tongue against his mouth. They’d become a part of each other that day, he and Anakin. So, for as long as one of them still lived…

Obi-Wan did not return inside until dawn spread its rosy fingers across the dunes. There was a chance for redemption, he knew; there was renewed hope. Always, always, hope.

Like many human dwellings throughout the galaxy, Obi-Wan’s desert hermitage had a household altar. His had been empty. Now, reverently, he placed his marriage cup upon it. For the first time since he had come to Tatooine, he smiled. He had been able to keep something of the best of what Anakin had been after all.

_A mother without a child is a pathetic thing indeed. There may be a time when the Chosen One will live again. Take comfort in that, Papa._

He did, and he would check in on little Luke later today.

 

THE BEGINNING

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Okay, this probably wasn’t the ending you wanted, but it _is_ the ending I’d always intended. A lot of AU fanfics end up in a place so far from canon as to be unrecognizable, and I didn’t want that for this story.
> 
> (2) But if you’re still on the market for a standard, sappy happy ending, read my other obikin fanfic, [That Sleep of Death, What Dreams May Come](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7731400). For totally angst-free, stakes-free sex, read [Practicum](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8434945). Also, while “Mother” is not intended to take place in the same universe as [The Last Cup](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8178467) and [Halfway Real](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8219891), there are thought-provoking parallels…
> 
> (3) Well, this experiment in short, frequently-updated chapters is over. It’s been interesting. Certainly, it kept the plot moving and reined in my tendency to overindulge in expository detail! But on the other hand, there are parts of this story that I think are weak, and in any case, I’m not sure whether or not I’d ever do it again. Thoughts?

**Author's Note:**

> In keeping with the cracktastic subject matter, I want the prose of this fanfic to be light, quick, and pulpy. The short, frequently-updated chapters are meant to complement this style. It represents a bit of a departure from the rest of my writing, however. What do you think? Is it working for you?


End file.
